Never Enough
by SALJStella
Summary: Adam and Lawrence know they can forget about the bathroom. If they help each other through it, they can overcome any obstacle. Except for the one kiss they shared in there. That's an obstacle they find themselves surrendering to. Again and again.
1. When All You Have Is Words

**A/N: Hey hey, everybody! Now, about this fic... Well, it's a sequel to my one-shot, I Wouldn't Change A Thing, so take my advice and read that one first. This first chapter is really short, and it's very Adam-centered, and very angsty, hence the lenght. Angst is better in short forms! (I just came up with that!) **

**1: When All You Have Is Words**

_Ggggrrrrroooonnggggrrrreeeeekkkkk_

These words. Even in the black, red blurr that covers it all.

---

And now words.

_Callallallall_

_No..._

_Titititititit_

_Don't... _

_Mamamamamamay-y-y-y-y-yneedededededtoeateateateateateatEATEATEAT_

"Don't..."

At first, Adam had wanted words to slip out from the soar caverns of his mind.

He'd hoped that they'd eventually turn into something real, something he'd be able to put his hands on and form into something concrete, something he could claim as his own even though right now, he was barely able to do that with his own body.

He'd hoped he'd be able to brand the words as things he could control.

But life isn't that kind.

And if his _life _has never been that kind, how can he expect _this _to be, how can he ask something good to come from something so dreadful that he actually _wants _death to set him free from it?

So the words haven't become real.

As an opposite, they started as things that at least were fragments of real sentences, things he could at least put his hands around even if they just slipped between his fingers.

But now, Adam has lost tracks on how long he's been in this bathroom. And the sentences are now red, hot, steaming, melted words, they arise from nowhere and just float around, mean nothing and do nothing, only devour the last real memories Adam has and only make his headache worse.

_CALLITMYNEEDTOEAT!_

"No..."

Adam whines, pathetic, so pathetic, and presses his hands against the sides of his head.

Real words. They were there for a while. Almost. But now, he doesn't even want them there anymore.

Because they're only words like those.

They're words that not only mean someting, aren't just liquid remains of real thoughts, but also _taunt, _echo from the infected windings of his bran about what _he _said, what _he himself fucking said _without even _fucking _knowing how true it was!

"I need to eat..."

And then, a sharp stab in his stomach.

Taunting. Adam rolls up into a ball, presses his lower arms against his abdomen.

Or maybe someone else does. It doesn't feel like his arms.

But then again, the rest of his body doesn't, either.

"I need to... Eat..."

_"Adam, you already look like a goddamned skeleton! You're going to finish your dinner, and _then _go see your lady friend. Or I'll castrate you, and then you won't get much use out of her, anyway." _

The sobs that drop from Adam's lips are high-pitched and squealing, howling and burning.

"Mom... I'll finish my dinner, I promise... Heather can wait, she can wait in the hallway, I'll take her out some other time but you've got to let me finish my dinner because I need to eat I need to eat..."

Why won't she listen to him?

Why can't she let him eat? He's _said _that he'll take Heather out some other time, he's _said _it now, so why can't he fucking _eat? _

"Bitch," Adam hisses when he's glaring at the square of light that forms the door, it floats in and out of his vision. "I left home for a reason, you know. You're always like this. I say I'll finish my dinner, and you just... You won't fucking _listen! _Why can't you do that, what the _fuck _did I do to you?"

She doesn't answer.

No wonder. Adam has no idea why he tries to talk to her, he saw her leaving the bathroom a few hours ago.

Or days.

Adam has no idea what is real. Since Lawrence left, he's talked to or seen basically every person he's ever met in his life, or people he's just heard of or seen in a picture. The guy he took pictures of before Lawrence, his dad's mistress, The Hulk, Orlando Bloom. They've all come and gone, drowned in his mentality and he's never missed them after that.

They were just even more taunting. Just stared at him, a circle of faces closing around him, examining him thoroughly but not helping, not doing a damn thing.

He doesn't miss anything anymore. Nothing out in the real world can be good enough to be worth the memories of this.

The light light from the closed door gets even more blurred when Adam thinks this.

He's been through so much shit. And he's never given into it, never even thought about taking any kind of easy way out, because that's not him. He is that strong.

But not anymore.

This is Adam now. This is who Jigsaw turned him into.

He's turned him into someone who wants to die just to get away from it, wants to die just because he can't fight anymore.

But there's one thing.

One real thing.

One reason to why Adam doesn't grab the gun he tried to hit Jigsaw with and just ends it all.

One name that glows in neon through the darkness. Dazzles. Comforts.

_Lawrence... _

One memory.

One memory of a hand on his cheek, a warmth of another body, a shallow breath into his mouth.

Adam bites his lips when he rolls over to his back. Tries to feel the presence of Lawrence on them.

Not a trace of that kiss is left.

**I know what you're going to say: There are enough fics about a dramatic rescue of Adam out there. Well, I guess all I can hope for is that I'll be a step ahead of the other writers that do that (if you forget for a second that I've written half of those fics... XD) Anyway, please review!**


	2. Love Will Find A Way

**A/N: God, what a long update… Well, if you're a devoted me-reader, you know that I usually use school as an excuse, and I'm planning on doing that now, too. School deserves it, since it sucks. Anyway, here's a new update! And if you still haven't read I Wouldn't Change a Thing, I put some flashbacks here that should clear that part out…**

**Disclaimer: Saw isn't mine. Although, if it had been, things would've been a lot hotter… **

**2: Love Will Find A Way**

Lawrence hates hospitals. From now on, he does. He hates hospitals and he hates doctors.

Which is very hypocritical. He's part of the system, and it's not even true. He doesn't hate doctors.

Sure, he might not like doctors, because he doesn't think much of his colleges, since they're way too much like himself, they don't feel and they don't think, they just do.

Just like him.

And he doesn't think much of his own doctor-self. At least not much of the one he used to be.

But he will change now. He swears that as he lies in the hospital bed, restless and annoyed, eager to get on his feet again, to get out into the halls of this hospital, since it's never been this obvious that these people can't do anything without him there.

But that's not why he hates doctors.

He hates doctors because they won't listen to him.

Because they make him feel like a goddamned med-student again, they look down on him with eyes that are so disgustingly _pitiful, _so all together let's-not-tell-him-what-a-little-moron-he-is-because-then-he-won't-eat-his-dinner, like _he's _the one that needs to be taken care of, like _he's _the one who can't even treat a patient like a _person, _and not just a delirious old doctor in a bed, without good doctor Gordon there to hold his hand!

He hates doctors. And he hates cops, he hates everyone else in this room and he hates the room itself because Adam isn't in it.

If Adam had been here, Lawrence would've had some concrete _evidence, _the goddamned doctors would've seen what he was talking about and Adam would've clawed those pitiful eyes out for him, since Lawrence still can't stand up on his own.

How much easier things would be.

"Look," Lawrence says, keeps telling himself _anger doesn't give information _even though every nerve in his body is a white-hot violin string by now. "I know you all looked through that warehouse over and over. I know that. I get that. But I still need you to look through it again, because you missed the man that was in that bathroom with me. That is a fact, and he does not deserve to die in there."

He literally feels one person losing interest in him with every word he says, but he doesn't care. None of them are as annoyed as he is, anyway. Even if he doesn't show it.

And even if they would be, their anger isn't important.

No matter how big their anger is, it can't possibly be as big as the fear Adam feels right now, as big as his fear and the anger that he pretends to feel instead of it, since that's what Adam does. Lawrence knows that, just after knowing him for six hours.

One cop is still bearing with him, though. But Lawrence doesn't know his name, because of course, he didn't introduce himself when he came in, he's way too busy and important for that, and Lawrence tries not to think _well, I was, too, and look where that got me_, but it's hard.

"Doctor Gordon, I suggest you see this from our perspective," the nameless detective says and straightens up after letting his chin rest heavily in his hand. "Ever since you woke up, you've been telling the same story over and over, about this young kid that was in that bathroom with you. But you should keep in mind that since even _before _you woke up, you've been put on strong medication drugs for the pain. You've been through an enormous emotional and physical trauma, so no one would blame you for being a little spacey…"

He says this with his eyes fixed on the notepad he has in his hand, and Lawrence is pretty happy about that, since he really is sick of those pitiful eyes, but in the meantime, it makes him feel more ignored than ever before, and that makes him want to break something.

"And more than anything," the detective goes on, and now, he actually does look at Lawrence, "we've dragged that warehouse nonstop for the past two days, and found nothing. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

Lawrence puts two fingers against the tip of his nose and counts silently to ten to keep himself from giving every single person in the room a good punch in the face.

"_Yes, _it does," he then says, and he's convinced that all the doctors in the room recognizes his tone as the one you use to a using patient who refuses to be checked into rehab. "But in the meantime, detective, I don't think you're listening to me. Adam _was _in that room with me, okay? And if you don't find him by yourself, I'll be happy to go to the warehouse with you and look through it, but it would be a lot more helpful if you'd just… I know the door I crawled out through! And it looked a lot like a wall, can't you just go back there and touch the walls, try to unlock them…"

So desperate. Not nearly as he usually was, without the need to nag or persuade at all, because he was Lawrence, Lawrence Gordon, and he'd get his way sooner or later, anyway.

And it is for no purpose. Because the detective has already stopped listened to him, his pen has slipped into his breast pocket and his secretary is already fidgeting with the doorknob.

"I believe my work here's done," the detective says and stands up. "Good luck with the recovering, doctor Gordon."

And in Lawrence's head, something snaps, gets past his nervous good-boy-complex, something that's bigger and more powerful and that he's very grateful for.

It's the need to stand up for the ones he cares about.

It's the same thing that made him saw off his foot in that bathroom.

The same thing that kept him from crawling out of it straight away, but staying there, with Adam, for the brief seconds it took to tell him that it _would _be okay, that Lawrence would _not, _for the fucking _life _of him, let anything hurt him.

Nothing would get to hurt him. And neither will Lawrence let him be forgotten. Even if Adam is dead right now, he's going to be taken out of that place and get a proper funeral, because if a lot of people who deserve that less than him have gotten that privilege, he's going to get it, too.

It's mainly that thought that makes Lawrence sit up straight, ignore the pain that shoots up from his ankle when he shifts his foot, it only strengthens the harshness in his eyes, anyway.

The detective actually stops on his way out. The fingers that tucked the pen into his pocket linger on the fabric of the rim of it when his gaze sticks in Lawrence's.

Just the simple act of immediately paying attention to him gives Lawrence the upper hand. And he's going to use it to the fullest.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lawrence asks, still polite, though, still calm. "My foot is missing, detective. In case you haven't noticed that. And if you have not, then let me update you on the whole situation. But that requires you to _sit. The hell. Down _and listen to me, if you don't mind."

The detective's hand doesn't leave his pocket when he sits back down after a few seconds of hesitation. But when it does, Lawrence sees that he's taken the pen out again, and his secretary rolls her eyes theatrically when she realizes that she's stuck here, but Lawrence doesn't care. He just lies back down, without letting the detective go with his eyes even for a moment, and starts talking, still polite, still calm.

"Now," he begins and clasps his hands in front of him on the covers. "Since I assume that you _haven't _missed the fact that my foot is missing, I also assume that you understand that I didn't make that bathroom up, or imagined it, for that matter. I was in it. I was in that bathroom for six hours."

Lawrence is still calm. Even though he has to work to get these words past his lips.

On some level, he sort of hoped that he'd imagined it all, too.

"There was a man in that bathroom with me," Lawrence continues. "His name was Adam. And I didn't imagine him, either."

Very true words.

Lawrence's imagination died long ago. It would never be able to think of something as peculiar as Adam.

"In fact, Adam's the thing I remember more than anything else by now," Lawrence goes on. "Because he's what I associate with everything else in there. Like the saw, those tapes, the cell phone… Diana's… Voice…"

The words are so heavy and so cold. Instead of getting out, they stay in his chest. Chills him inside out.

"And every time I think about that…" They do get out with some effort, though. "I also think that he doesn't deserve that. His name doesn't deserve being even in the same goddamned _sentence _as that place, because he's so much better than that. None of it was his fault, not at all. He didn't deserve to be in there, but I… I did. I had only myself to blame. So I… Hell, I don't even have the _right _to think of him in that bathroom, because he _shouldn't _have been there! I should think about him outside, I should think of him as freedom in its purest fucking form, because… He _is! _So get him _out _of there! Please!"

He's lost it, he literally hears on which word he loses the balance and the control, hears right where he stops thinking about the fact that he wants these policemen to get Adam out, and starts thinking about _Adam. _

For these policemen to think about helping Adam, they can't think of him like Lawrence does. They have to think of him clinically, like a case they have to solve, a file in a cabinet.

They can't think of Adam, scared when Lawrence can't reach the phone, happy when Lawrence shows him the cigarettes he's found.

Can't think of his trembling lips against their own.

The detective doesn't seem to mind Lawrence's tantrum, though. He's probably used to it, and Lawrence gets a hold of himself pretty quickly, anyway. He leans back against the pillows, even though he doesn't remember straightening up, and rakes a hand through his hair.

"The door was yellow," Lawrence finishes off, calmer again. "And dirty and… It was a sliding door. You could've easily mistaken it for a wall. But _please, _go back there. Or I'll do it myself."

The detective drums his pen against his lip. Glares at Lawrence with cold little eyes. He hasn't written down a word Lawrence has said, but Lawrence still gets the feeling that he's paid more attention to him now than he's done ever since he got here.

"Okay."

Lawrence can just stare dimly at him. But that doesn't matter, the detective's already lost interest in him again.

In fact, even before Lawrence has managed to register that he's actually _agreed _to search for Adam again, agreed to get him out of his grave, his own personal hell that Lawrence left him in, the detective's already gotten up, told his secretary to call car number four and tell it to go down to the crime scene, thank you for your time, doctor Gordon, goodbye, get well, and the room's cleared out.

Lawrence is alone. Stares at the place the detective used to be, and he's not nearly as happy as he should be, but he can't hold back a laugh.

Adam.

They're going to get him out.

_I'm going to see him again. _

He actually throws his head back and laughs.

_I'm going to see that stupid little bastard again! _

Because he will. Adam isn't dead. After all, Jigsaw tried to kill him, and he's too stubborn and childish to do anything someone else wants him to do.

That's probably the only reason Lawrence _hasn't _gotten down to the bathroom himself. He knows Adam, knows him better than he knows himself, and he knows that he's a survivor. Adam isn't dead, he's living and breathing and free, even if he's locked up. Because no freedom is bigger than the one of those who've had to struggle to keep it for so long.

And Lawrence is senselessly, utterly, mind-numbingly happy about this, but he still tries to keep his joy down. Doesn't want to take anything out in advantage, since he knows by now that everything can seem fine, everything can seem great, but everything can also come down. Crumble like a piece of paper you don't need anymore.

It just takes someone to make the judgment that they'd do you a favor if they ruined everything.

So Lawrence tries not to be happy. Tries not to think of Diana, whom he got to see last night, of her eyes spilling over and her little hands clutching to his hair when she flung her arms around his neck.

Of Allison. Pale and beautiful, beautiful as ever, but beautiful like a porcelain doll, beautiful as anything that could break so easily.

But still so strong.

Still so powerful with the words she whispered in his ear when she finally got to hug Lawrence after Diana had settled between his knees: _Things are going to change now, Larry. _

And they will. But Lawrence tries not to think about that.

So instead, he thinks of something that'll sure as hell keep that little smile on his face, since he still feels Adam's hand on it, but that'll still make him so cold inside, so betraying and more unfaithful than he did with any of his nurses, or his interns, or mothers of children he'd operated on.

More unfaithful. Because how are things going to change when Lawrence kisses someone else while he's in the _middle _of doing what would _make _that change?

"…_And I'm going to… Bring someone… Back…" _

_Maybe Adam nods. Lawrence should know, his forehead is resting against his, but he's lost the feeling of his body, and all he feels is cold, and love, so big and so unexpected that he almost forgets that the worst is yet to come. _

_Because he still hasn't seen Diana's dead body. _

"_I love you." _

_He has no idea where that comes from. Especially since he just thought of his daughter, dead, the red blotches on her baby blue pajamas. _

_But maybe he just needs someone to be real. To be a human. To be good. _

_Maybe he just needs a good person in the middle of all this, in the middle of such an incredibly cruel world that he's refused to admit existed for his whole life. _

_Adam nods. Lawrence knows that for sure this time. _

"_Love you, too." _

_And then Adam's face approaches his. _

_Their faces are drenched in cold sweat. Their lips glide so easily over each other. _

_So easily. _

Lawrence rakes his hand through his hair again.

That was so easy in the bathroom.

And if things are that easy now that they're out of there, things will indeed change. But not in the way Allison mean they will.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Hands, small and frail, seeking a way around Lawrence's waist.

As small and frail as Diana's, those nights when she'd had a bad dream and didn't manage to wake him up, so instead, settled for crawling down between Lawrence and Allison, clutched to him tight, pressed her little forehead against his back.

She crawled down with him because he could haunt the monsters away. Even when he didn't know that he did it.

And Lawrence has a feeling that was exactly why Adam snuggles up behind him right now, why his tiny thumb slowly caresses his stomach through the hospital gown, why he breaths softly and warmly on his neck in a way that makes Lawrence _feel _the smile on his lips even when they aren't touching him.

Their bodies fit together perfectly. Like pieces in a puzzle.

"You're back," Lawrence mumbles.

He won't remember this moment tomorrow, even though it's the most wonderful one he's felt in a really long time. Because he's in between now, he's not asleep and not awake, sees the gloomy light from the early New York morning through the blinders, but he's still too dazed to really register the odd sense of beauty in it.

And in states like that, it doesn't matter that Adam is here. That Adam is here, and even though nothing can happen between them, ever again, Lawrence still loves him, because Adam loves him, too, loves him and admires him and missed him and understands him a way that no one else ever has.

That doesn't matter. Lawrence still won't remember this tomorrow.

But he still knows that if Adam weren't here, it wouldn't only be the beauty of the moment that stopped being important.

If Adam hadn't made it out, nothing would ever be important to him again.

Adam nods against his back, finds Lawrence's hand and strokes it sweetly.

"Go to sleep, man," he murmurs with a faint smile. "They can't hear me being in here, I should be in my room. We'll talk in the morning."

Lawrence doesn't answer.

Maybe it's the way the moment affects him. Maybe he's just pretended to know that Adam would make it out.

Maybe he's been lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling through a haze of medication and tears, fresh and searing, dropping down from the corners of his eyes, clutching to the rim of his blanket with anxiety like a compact, sour, dark ball in his stomach. Maybe Adam's name on his lips has been the only thing keeping him sane during those nights.

Maybe.

Or maybe it's the fact that he missed that kiss.

Maybe he missed it, _misses_ it with all his heart, and now when he feels Adam again, he's more reminded than ever that they'll never be able to do it again.

Maybe that's what's making him so sad, even though he should be jumping through the ceilings now.

"Adam…"

Adam squeezes his hand lightly.

"I…"

That ball comes back now.

"I missed you so much…"

And now, he feels Adam's smile in his breath again.

But for once, it doesn't make things better.

"I love you, Lawrence," Adam whispers, softer than Lawrence thought him capable of. "Go to sleep."

And when those words are combined with everything else, the return of Adam, the memories of those nights, the knowledge of what they share and the emulsion of that they'll only be able to act on half of it, that's when Lawrence realizes that he won't be able to sleep now.

That's when the crying starts, but it goes on for hours, with Lawrence shaking and sobbing helplessly, like a little boy, until the drugs put him to sleep. And that's when Adam just lays behind his back, strokes his hand, stoically calm, says nothing and asks no questions.

**Aw… They **_**do **_**love each other! Not that we didn't know that before, of course, but it still wouldn't hurt them to say it once in a while! Anyway, review! **


	3. Don't Tell Me This Can't Be Done

**A/N: Hi there! Missed me? Well, if you didn't, I can only hope that you've missed Adam and Lawrence… Because they've missed you! And they really want you to read this chapter now, so please ignore my rants! **

**3: Don't Tell Me This Can't Be Done**

Lawrence prefers not to wake up these days. He has to ask his nurses every day not to give him any more drugs, because if they do, he'll sleep around the clock, even though he knows better, simply because that's a simple thing to do.

Sleeping is the momentarily bliss he gets. From the fear, the boredom, the reality he's missed so much but that he's not sure if he'll be able to go back to.

And sure, waking up is painful today, too. The itching in his healing ankle is still almost unbearable, everything hurts and the pain in his scar isn't hot and compact anymore, but sour and pricking, like something slimy and cold that's loosely wrapped around his leg.

But Lawrence notes, even when he's only half-awake, that he hasn't had any nightmares tonight.

And it's right after that that he notes the thin little arm that's still draped around his waist. Still.

Lawrence loves him. He loves him so much that even the pain disappears, everything that's cold melts away and he gets to be human, human with warm blood and living, pounding heart, but that's just for a moment.

Because when that moment is done, he has to roll over to his side, look at Adam's face, so beautiful, so beautiful with the parted lips and the pale shadows under his eyes, the gloomy light of dawn that shines through the blinders, and for some reason, that's what reminds Lawrence that this won't last.

It's just a moment.

Before the bathroom, all Lawrence did was collecting moments. Moments when the world was durable.

Moments when Diana smiled so her eyes sparkled. Moments when Allison laughed at something he said, moments when a patient woke up after surgery, whispered a faint _thank you _and the twenty year-old intern inside Lawrence got warm inside.

He needed to take the moments separately, because if you put all the moments together, they became his life. And that's when things got so hard.

And now, it's another moment that Lawrence has to collect, because it's a moment alone, and he needs to keep it in mind to be able to withstand what he'll have to say when Adam wakes up.

Lawrence runs his hand over Adam's cheek. A smile ghosts across his face, but it disappears quickly.

He wants his life to be one big moment from now on. He wants to lie here and watch Adam sleep, and that's it. Dealing with reality is too hard, that's why he built a whole fake world when he realized he'd have to grow up, and it was very convenient, but he will never go back to that world. It's even scarier than the reality after the mess it got him into.

Lawrence will learn how to face the hard things now.

So it's with a feeling of pride and a heavy heart that overrules it that he gives Adam's cheek another stroke before he shakes his shoulder and watches his eyelids flutter open.

Adam almost looks at Lawrence like he wonders what he's doing here. But it doesn't take long before he smiles sleepily, shifts the hand that's still on Lawrence's waist.

"Hey, man," he grumbles and finally takes his hand away.

Lawrence is still heartbroken, sure, but he does have to smile when Adam does.

"Hey."

Pause.

"Do the cops know you're here?"

Adam chuckles wearily and uses his now free hand to rub against his eye.

"You don't think I got out of there on my own, do you?"

Lawrence chuckles inwardly, tries not to move closer to Adam but does it anyway.

"No, I mean… Do they know that you're here? With… With me?"

Adam shakes his head almost straight away.

"No. They don't."

Lawrence nods slowly.

"Adam…"

The letters in the words get thicker and thicker, heavier and heavier until they're flat on Lawrence's tongue.

It's so hard to say. So hard to make himself believe.

So hard to imagine a life where he can be around Adam, looking at him without touching him, strengthen the barricade he just wants to tear down. More than anything in the world right now.

"Adam, you know that we can't…"

Another pause. Adam doesn't look as shocked as Lawrence thought he would.

"We can't keep… Keep doing this."

Adam nods now. Smiles faintly, and it's just a brief flicker of his gaze that displays any kind of reluctance. Maybe he already knew.

"Yeah. I know."

"I mean…" Lawrence goes on and puts his hand on Adam's waist without even noticing it. "In the bathroom… I know that we had to do it, it was… It was basically unavoidable, but it can't happen again, I… I want to make it work. With Allison. She deserves that much."

Adam nods during his entire rant. And he still doesn't look sad at all.

Adam is so smart. He'd never admit it, but he is. He knew all along that Lawrence would never be able to keep things up with him, never be brave enough to go through hell and not having the safe world he built for himself to go back to. Even if that's the world he should be avoiding right now.

"I know. It's okay."

"Really?" Lawrence says anxiously.

Adam doesn't blame him at all, but the guilt is so big it's like a cold ball in his stomach.

Adam chuckles carefreely.

"Of course! You have a wife and kid, for God's sake, and in there… We were train wrecks, both of us. We needed it, right?"

Lawrence blushes briefly at the memory.

"Yeah. So… No hard feelings?"

Adam smiles, with something warm and aching in the corners of his mouth that Lawrence hasn't seen there before.

"None."

"And…" Lawrence realizes his hand is on Adam's waist, caresses it slowly. "We're still… Friends? I know it's not under the best circumstances, but…"

Adam's smile gets wider. But the aching thing doesn't go away.

"Of course."

"Okay," Lawrence says in a nervous exhalation. "I just… I don't want…"

"No, no," Adam interrupts him with a waving hand. "I don't think we'd even be able to… You know… Break things up."

So insecure, both of them. Their words make it halfway across the air between them, trembling and fragile, wither apart before any of them even get the context out of them.

That's all they dare to deliver. Because they've just established that they can't give each other all they want to give.

Because if Lawrence actually told Adam that he was terrified that he would lose him, if he would tell him how much he feared the moment when he had to tell him that they can't be together this way, he wouldn't be able to stay away from him. He would grab those slim shoulders, pull Adam up against him and pour his dread and his nervous despair into him with lips, teeth and tongue.

And if Adam told Lawrence about the only thing keeping him sane when he was in the bathroom alone, the name that shone like a flashing sign on the Broadway streets of horror, about the memories that tortured him because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to relive them and were his life support at the same time, he wouldn't be able to act untouched. He would break down into Lawrence's chest, cry like a baby and beg, beg in a way he's sworn he never would.

So Adam and Lawrence try to keep away from each other. Try to block the memories out, memories of thungry lips and searching tongues, a moment of humanity in a place that tried to squeeze all of that out of them, like drops of blood on harshly white snow.

But they don't think about the fact that they're trying to do the exact same thing right now. Suppress something unavoidable, fight the most basic feelings you can have as a human: Showing love to the ones you feel deserve it.

And they forget that it will probably work as well now as it did in the bathroom.

"So…" Lawrence goes on and tries to keep his voice together. "How are you? How are you… Dealing with it all?"

Adam's gaze flutters down again. Just like the last time Lawrence brought his mind to something he didn't want to think about.

The sleep gave him some bliss, too. Not as much as Lawrence's warmth and his tired sobbing did, but still.

And now, that he has to think about it again, he doesn't even have to think about it all, doesn't have to think about the stabbing pain in his guts, the hole in his shoulder that almost seemed to grow as the infection in it spread, the parched tongue that stuck to the roof of his mouth after days or hours or weeks without water.

That's what he's thinking about. And he knows that's just half of it.

So to answer Lawrence's question, Adam has to take the very simplest words he can think of to keep his thoughts this way.

"I'm scared."

Lawrence nods.

"All the time?"

Adam sighs.

"In there… In there I was," he says, not sure about what he's allowed to say to keep them from falling too deep. "I wasn't sure if you'd made it out, and that scared the hell out of me. But… Right now I'm not. Not with…"

He stops talking abruptly. The _you _that was supposed to be in the end of that sentence hangs between them.

It's completely useless to say it when Lawrence has just established that they can't be together that way, because he can literally feel his chest splitting open, gaping wider and wider as he talks, before his very soul is exposed, completely in Lawrence's hands, and it's scary, but he likes it.

Likes that for a second, both he and Lawrence are as vulnerable as they won't be able to be with anyone else.

It's like they belong to each other.

Before the bathroom, Lawrence collected moments. Moments when the world was durable, because if he took all the moments all together, they became his life. And that's when things got so hard.

And he likes to believe that he learned something from being in the bathroom. The thought that it was all in vain is almost too much for him.

But still, when he can't keep himself for reaching out and caressing Adam's cheek, and when Adam can't keep himself from closing his eyes and drowning in the feeling, he also can't block out the feeling that it's moments like these he's going to start collecting now. Even though there can't be any.

**Hehe… I love it when they're in denial! Just because it's so stupid that they even try! :) Anyway, please review!**


	4. With Words That Aren't Spoken

**A/N: YAY! Another chapter up! That always makes me happy! Anyway, I know that Adam and Lawrence were denying idiots in the last chapter, and as for this chapter… Well, we can just cross our fingers! **

**4: With Words That Aren't Spoken**

Allison has asked Lawrence if she can see Adam. Lawrence has postponed it, said that Adam needs time to melt everything and that she'll just be the voice that told Lawrence not to believe in Adam's lies if they meet.

That's not true. Adam's tough, he sees Lawrence every day even though Lawrence knows that if Adam's anything like him, he can't put Lawrence in a normal context. Can't see him as Lawrence, but just as Lawrence who sawed off his foot and screamed and screamed and until his voice bounced off the hard walls, crashed against itself, and that's okay. More than anything, it shouldn't keep him from seeing Allison.

But Lawrence can't do that. He can't introduce Adam and Allison to each other, and he tells himself that it's because no matter in what situation it was, he was unfaithful to Allison. He did kiss Adam, and he said that he loved him, and he can't stand seeing him and Allison in the same room after that.

And that's not true, either. Lawrence has kissed all his female interns and he's done a lot more than that, even if he never really slept with any of them. And nonetheless, Allison has always been there, she's come to his job to show Diana how daddy works, she's been there on hospital parties, smiled politely and pretended like she wasn't eying over these interns, always with the same suspicion resting over her through the entire night and eventually bursting out between painted lips when they came back home: _You're sleeping with her, aren't you? _

And Lawrence never had a problem with that. Seeing Allison shake hands with the same girl that shyly walked into his office the day before and asked if there wasn't anything she could do to make him improve her evaluation had never been a problem to him, because he always forgot this girl when she walked out of his office again with ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. He'd never cared, because he didn't care about _them. _

They were all the same. They had the same lips and the same breasts, almost completely concealed by the scrubs. And he didn't care about any of them.

He can't stand seeing Allison and Adam together because Adam matters. Adam's different, and he matters because Lawrence _does _associate him with the bathroom, no matter how little he deserves to be thought of in the same sentence as that place. Because Lawrence sees him as the only thing he could rely on in there, the only thing he didn't have to save but that still mattered enough for him to _want _to.

That mattered enough for Lawrence to stay in the bathroom even after he was free. Just to tell him that he mattered.

Just to show him, by making the biggest mistake of his life.

And that almost makes Lawrence wish that Adam didn't matter so goddamned much. Because since he does, and since he still is the only thing Lawrence can rely on, the only one who knows what he's been through, he can't even do what he usually does when he kisses someone he isn't married to and just ignore them until he can push the guilt into the rest of his numbness.

Adam, on the other hand, he has to talk to.

About everything, about the bathroom and what led to that, about what followed it, about the nightmares, and when it's dark outside and he has to stop talking, he needs Adam there to keep the nightmares away.

But never about his marriage. And never about the kiss.

In Lawrence's eyes, Adam is the most involuntarily wise, reluctantly advising person in the world. But these two problems are ones he can't solve.

Adam still has nightmares. And he needs Lawrence for that, too, only he'd never admit it. But maybe he hasn't gotten it himself.

Or maybe he just doesn't want to see the connection. The pattern that when he's with Lawrence, he's uneasy even when he sleeps on the couch next to his bed. There are no direct nightmares, just ghosts fluttering through his mind, voices whispering, as brief and subtle as the beating of his heart.

And those rare times when his nurse tells him to sleep in his own bed, because he has to be put on dialysis for the infection in his scar, he knows for sure he doesn't remember because he doesn't want to remember. He suppresses them to himself, and Lawrence seems to be smart enough not to ask the morning after.

The morning after Adam comes padding into his room, softly and quiet and a little mad at himself, even if the half-awake state, for surrendering to the nightmares, the death that Jigsaw means to him, the bathroom that flashes before his eyes and the raspy voice that rises and rises until it makes the stained tiles vibrate.

He doesn't want to give them right. But since they go away when he lifts Lawrence's blanket and presses as close to him as he can possibly get, he likes to think that he's won.

"You know," Adam says one day when he's sitting wedged in between Lawrence's feet, both of them are still there thanks to the miracle of modern medicine. "I know you're happy that your foot is back and all, but I almost wish that you'd stay on bed rest forever."

Lawrence smiles with only mild offense, since he knows that Adam hasn't finished the sentence yet.

"And why is that?" He asks politely.

Adam chuckles and aims his embarrassed smile to Lawrence's knees. Apparently this isn't an easy thing for him to say.

"Well, when you get out of here…" He continues with a shrug. "You'll go back to the hotshot life, won't you? You'll be here half of the time, and you'll have even less time for other people since you'll even waste it on being a good father and not fight with your wife…"

Lawrence laughs. When he quiets down, he gets that certain feeling that you get when there's no social masks and two souls are connecting, in whatever anxiety or happiness they share. Like he almost only feels with Adam.

"And you're saying that's a bad thing?"

Adam looks up, still with that smile, and shrugs again. Without answering.

For some reason, it's not until Adam doesn't use his words that Lawrence gets what he's trying to say. That makes him amused and shocked at the same time.

"Adam," Lawrence says, almost like an order, and forces Adam to look up again, his eyes slipped down when he saw that Lawrence understood. "You don't think I'll stop seeing you, do you?"

Adam laughs slyly, like he's trying to make a joke out of it, but the flush on his cheeks is still there.

"Well, if I were a doctor and had a family, I sure as hell wouldn't put me very high on the to do-list," he says bluntly. "Hell, I don't put me very high on the to do-list now, either, and that's not a very full to do-list…"

Adam's voice fades out, and he places his chin on his knee, his eyes are still lowered. Ashamed. Of wanting to be needed.

Lawrence makes a sound that can either be a scoff or a laugh, and Adam's eyes flutter up before they see that Lawrence is about to say something about how needed he really is, and then they go back down.

"Adam, for God's sake, I haven't let you leave my hospital room since we got here!" Lawrence blurts out and gestures his arm aimlessly. "And I haven't been able to shut up once during that time other than when I listen to you, because… I _need_ you, Adam! Haven't you… I mean, don't you see that?"

And now, once again, it's just like when they realized that they wouldn't be able to live without each other. Because it's never been more obvious than now.

It's that moment again, when the two chests crack open and not one part of their souls are hidden anymore, they are completely bared to themselves and to each other. That moment that only Lawrence seems to be able to bring out of Adam.

It's like they're one person.

Like if one leaves the other, they will be two halves, survive for a little while and then collapse, wounded and bleeding.

Adam isn't used to that. He's used to be alone, and even though that should make him free to do all the soul searching he'd need to get in touch with himself, he hasn't done that. He's been hiding from himself because he was such a failure that he didn't even want to show it to himself. Let alone let someone else into his life and show it to them.

And now, someone is here. Someone who he knew would be there forever even before he said it, but now he's said it. It's official.

Lawrence will be there forever. But there will always be one part of himself that he hides away from Adam.

And that's the part that Allison gets instead.

And since that mere thought makes Adam to feel like there's a part of himself missing, he should toss Lawrence out right now. Before it's too late. But instead, he looks up, their eyes lock, Adam's body freezes up before it melts into liquid. In Lawrence's hand.

"Yeah," he mumbles, and he knows Lawrence feels it, too. "I get that."

Lawrence nods, and his gaze flutters away. Their chests are closing down, their social masks are carefully put on. And even though Adam feels a lot calmer, that part of him that's missing suddenly gets so much bigger.

"Good," Lawrence says, lowers his gaze, rakes his hand through his hair.

Adam nods, too.

Nothing can happen. Nothing. He has to keep that in mind.

For Lawrence.

"You want to watch TV?" Adam says, for Lawrence, and takes the remote from the nightstand.

"Yeah, sure," Lawrence says, almost wearily, without taking the hand out of his hair.

Adam nods again, gets out of his seating between Lawrence's feet, scoots higher up on the bed and sits next to Lawrence, Lawrence moves aside to make room for him.

They're sitting so close. That makes it so much harder to focus on the 'Friends' episode that's on when Adam turns on the TV.

It's for Lawrence. This whole thing is for Lawrence.

But even though Lawrence is the only thing that matters to Adam in this world, it's hard to focus on what's best for him right now.

…**Yup, seems like they're still idiots. Damn it. If only they had a less evil author that could hook them up right away! XD Anyway, reviews make anyone nicer, so… Click the button! For Adam and Lawrence! They have to get laid sometime! **


	5. Like We Haven't Learned At All

**A/N: ARGH, what a slow update. Well, in my excuse, since I always have one: I wrote it days before I posted it. How could I not, when it actually has plot in it for a change? The problem is, I haven't had access to Internet, and for that, I blame my mom. Seems like my slowness is everyone's fault but me, isn't that convenient? XD Anyway, enjoy! **

**5: Like We Haven't Learned At All**

It's not until a few days after Adam's made it out that he notices that he has almost no fingernails left.

He hasn't mentioned it to any of the doctors, though. He doesn't see a reason to. He knows they can't make anything better, and he knows they wouldn't tell him anything he doesn't already know.

Why would he need a damn nurse to tell him that he'll never be able to put the lights out in his apartment again, that he'll spend the rest of his life with all the doors in his apartment wide open, or he'll feel the chain growing out of the wall, sneaking around his leg like a cold snake?

Why would a doctor have to tell him that he doesn't have any fingernails because he tried to claw himself out of the bathroom, somewhere on the crossroad between just being desperate for something to eat and staring at the ceiling with burning, feverish words, slithering worms in his mind, sneaking over each other?

Adam's not going to tell anyone about that. And maybe that's why he's so annoyed these days, not at anything particular, just at anyone who's unfortunate enough to have him as a patient.

Because Adam doesn't want to tell anyone of them about the aftermath from the bathroom. He doesn't want them to know about the nightmares, the claustrophobia, the Jigsaws he sees hovering in the corners. All the time.

And in the meantime, Adam knows that he's going to have to tell someone. Hell, he bottled up all his emotions for twenty-eight years before the bathroom, even though they were just the aggressions you got from a dad taking off, a mom without a job and a vow to himself that he wouldn't be like them that he didn't manage to fulfill, and look how that turned out. So if Adam bottled up everything he feels after the bathroom, it'll be too much even for him, and he will either kill himself or start killing women and save their heads in the freezer. He knows that, he's not stupid.

And that's exactly what bothers him. Because Adam has someone to talk to, he has one person who he can tell about anything, and he will understand, and even if he doesn't, he'll still try to help, and he will probably succeed, just because he's him.

Adam has someone like that. And that's also the one person that Adam _can't_ talk to, simply because if he does, he will break down in tears, he'll remember that he needs him now almost as much as he needed him in the bathroom when everything else was just a bad dream, and Adam will kiss him. He knows that.

Once again, he's not stupid.

Seriously, fuck his own honor, and fuck the holy pledge you make before God when you marry someone. Adam doesn't care. He wants Lawrence, and he can't help thinking that he deserves it.

Adam hasn't had anything he wants. He got his first camera when he was thirteen, and that's it. Not once in his life since then has anything come to his hand the right way, and now, he wants Lawrence. More than he's ever wanted anything else.

It's only fair. And the only thing that keeps Adam from simply storming into Lawrence's hospital room, grabbing his shoulders and force his gratitude into him with tongue and teeth, is the thought that life isn't fair. He's never counted on that before, and if he'd start doing it now, it'd just make him even bitterer.

So he won't count on Lawrence to give into him. He just craves it, needs it, the mere thought of it is what gets him through the days. It's the only thing that isn't unbearable right now, even if he knows he shouldn't think it at all.

And he knows Lawrence wants it, too. That just makes it even worse.

Adam sits between Lawrence's feet again. He still hasn't managed to stop doing that.

It's the same at night. That's what annoys him the most.

Adam always tosses and turns in his bed, his body's always so tired that it's aching and the scar in the shoulder turns into a hot, inflamed buzzing. And he wants nothing more than to just _sleep, _but unfortunately, his head is wide-awake, and it's planning on staying that way.

And Adam knows that Lawrence doesn't mind it. But he never gets up from his bed and grabs his IV while he walks out of his room without a feeling of defeat.

He shouldn't feel this way. For Lawrence's sake, he shouldn't.

But he only feels safe when they're together. And not even together is enough, they have to be close, skin to skin, with Lawrence's breath on his neck, so close and so horribly far away, for the nightmares to go away, Jigsaw to step out of the corners and back to the darkness he came from.

Only then does he feel safe. That scares him a little. But Adam's not planning on stop doing it.

Hell, if that's how the rest of his life is going to be, he might as well get used to it now.

Right now, they're talking about the bathroom again. Adam doesn't really get what it is Lawrence does that makes him all open and honest about what he feels, since the mere thought still makes his insides cold in a scary way, but once again, he's not planning on stop doing it.

Just like Lawrence, he's started collecting moments.

And he wants more of those moments when his chest opens up and connects with Lawrence's in a beam of light. Because he has a feeling that that'll be the closest he'll ever get to where he really wants to be.

"So what did you do after I left?" Lawrence asks, so incredibly kind that Adam has to look down on his hands, he can't stand looking at someone who really wants the best for him.

Even if the only option is to look at the two nails he has left on them.

"Um…" He mumbles with a shrug and starts fidgeting with his one of his remaining nails. "I didn't really do much, I mostly… Or, yeah, after Jigsaw told me that the key to the chain was in the bathtub, I started shoving my arm down the drain to see if I could find it, but then I didn't, and then… I just lied on the floor."

He looks at Lawrence again, it feels safe now, and Lawrence nods slowly.

"I assume you didn't find anything to eat in there?"

Adam shakes his head with a chuckle.

"No, I didn't. The taps worked in the bathtub, so I could drink, but... No food."

Those worst hours. Mom who didn't let him eat. _I need to eat… _

"Then I started talking to myself," Adam says simply and looks up again. "Or, not to myself, I started talking to everyone I could get my hands on. Or that my defective mind threw my way."

Lawrence smiles, but he still looks so sad that Adam has to look down again.

"My mom, for example," Adam says with a dejected laugh and lifts his hand to his mouth to bite his nail. "For the first time in… What, eight years? And it wasn't even the real her, it was kind of sad."

Pause. Lawrence waits.

"Then I forgot how to talk."

Yes, he remembers that. Or, almost. He barely remembers lying on his back and talking to his imaginary friends with words that melted together, but he remembers the SWAT-team breaking down the door, the light that hurt and the sounds that hurt, too.

And he remembers trying to tell the cop that first walked up to him that he loved them for coming for him, that Jigsaw was out there somewhere and they had to find him, that he loved Lawrence just for being Lawrence and that he would never take life for granted, ever again, but the cop didn't pay much attention to his sacred pledge. He just said something about the kid being in pretty bad shape, and Adam doesn't remember anything after that.

But he doesn't say any of that. Not even Lawrence can know that much.

Unfortunately though, he has the feeling that Lawrence knows all of that anyway.

"What about you?" Adam asks to take the focus off him, and looks up. "When did they find you?"

Lawrence rakes his hand through his hair with a sigh.

"I think I crawled through the halls for quite a bit before they found me," he says and gets that look that tells Adam that he's talking to himself just as much as to Adam. "Allison had asked our neighbors to call the cops to get me, but they were probably just as close to a breakdown as she was, so it took them a while to get anything reasonable out of them."

He quiets down. He doesn't remember much, either, that's obvious, and he gets a confused look on his face that Adam wants him to take away. It doesn't look like Lawrence.

Lawrence shakes his head dejectedly and looks at Adam again with an apologetic smile.

"I don't remember much," he says coyly, and Adam nods. "I just remember being here for a whole damn day before I finally managed to convince them that there'd been someone else in that bathroom with me. They thought I'd made it all up."

Adam feels his eyes widen briefly.

"Really? Was that why they were so damn slow?"

He really only asks that for the sake of it, Lawrence knows that, too.

Any time he spent in that place would've felt like an eternity.

"Yeah," Lawrence says, and his smile grows wider, even though it's really not funny at all. "They annoyed me like crazy, I thought I'd have to go there and get you myself. And it'd helped if I'd just thought about how incredibly annoying you can be most of the time, but stupid me could only focus on… That."

Adam looks up. At those turned-down eyes. He would cry if he hadn't been so scared.

Never can he say it. Never can he show Lawrence how much he really means to him.

And what scares him is that right now, he has to do it anyway.

"You're the reason I'm alive, man," Adam says sincerely, looks at Lawrence with an almost defeated expression, because he's already lost. "You were the only thing keeping me sane in there. The thought of the only friend I'd ever had, and the only one who'd ever… Loved me. If you did."

Lawrence looks up, surprised, and Adam knows what he's about to say, and when Lawrence knows it, too, it's another moment when everything melts down, it's just the two of them, in all their humanity, their stupidity and all their fear.

The fear more than anything. Adam is terrified, he feels himself crumbling, but still solid enough to stand up from the warmth between Lawrence's feet and rake his fingers through his hair.

"I…" He mumbles with his eyes on the floor. "I should… Go."

"Yeah," Lawrence says and nods along with his statement. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Adam looks at him. They both know that Adam's going to sneak down here tonight. That he needs him, then and always, that if they wouldn't have each other, they would've died, and if not in there, they would've killed themselves afterwards. And when they realize that, too, everything melts down again, and it's just them, but they're even weaker than before, the walls between them barely had time to rebuild since the last time.

Adam can never say it. Never can he show Lawrence how much he really means to him.

But once again, he has to do it anyway.

So he's up at Lawrence's bed in a heartbeat. And he doesn't even register Lawrence's expression, because he knows he just looks confused that way again, and that's not the Lawrence he wants, he wants the Lawrence he has in his head, the one who's his only key to salvation and who's head he grabs with both hands and kisses him.

It's not like in the bathroom. No. Adam isn't afraid that Lawrence is going to die, if not when he crawls away, then just because he's so broken down that he could fall to pieces if Adam touches him. This time, it's real and rich and full, and it's not the first time.

It's something they've wanted since they got out of the bathroom, and Adam feels that, he tastes it on Lawrence's lips, feels it in the strands of hair under his palm.

Adam loves kissing. He'd forgotten that. It's been ages since he got to do it, he'd forgotten how important this need is to fulfill. And he remembers now, he remembers just how much he loved Lawrence then, he remembers the taste he felt under the one of blood and despair and that now fills his entire mouth when Lawrence parts his lips and lets Adam's tongue in.

Adam loves it. He loves it ten times more than all the other times when Lawrence's tongue plays with his own, dance around each other, tasting and trying like they didn't know exactly what to do, like they hadn't done this in their heads over and over.

Adam loves it. And he still does the mistake of opening his eyes, just for a second, and see what it really is that he's doing.

He does love this. But more importantly, he loves Lawrence. More than anything in the world, he loves him.

And the problem with that is that he wants what's best for him. He wants him to be happy, to have a good life and share it with someone that can give him all of themselves. And that's not Adam.

Adam's an emotionally damaged, closed down little loser, without past and without future. And if he loves Lawrence as much as he knows he does, he should be able to spare him of that.

So Adam lets go. He pulls away from Lawrence. Looks into his eyes, through a haze of unhappy desire.

"I should go."

It sounds more determined now. Maybe because the last time he said it, he at least had some sort of hope that he actually _would _be able to go.

Now, he can sound determined. Because he knows for sure that the gate's open now, and they will never be able to close it. No matter how hard they try.

And that's even more obvious when Adam steps out of the room and sees the door closing behind him.

It really feels like he's left a part of himself in that room. An anxious, vibrating longing for the one thing that will make him complete.

**Yesss… They DO have functioning brains! Thank God, I was really getting worried… Anyway, you know how hard it is for me to write chapters where things happen, so it's only fair if you review! :) **


	6. You Own What You Buy

**A/N: YAY, a new chapter! And I know, I left you hanging right after they'd repossessed the brains that had obviously been stolen by aliens and realized that they were made for each other, so you all hate me, but I **_**think **_**you'll like me more now… (And pay not attention to the sudden change of the rating XD)**

**6: You Own What You Buy**

The nightmares have been replaced now. With something darker, eviler. And definitely more treacherous.

Jigsaw always enters Adam's mind, every time he closes his eyes, and he has his dark cloak and his raspy voice, all those things he's so scared of, but when he leaves, Adam always wishes he'd stay.

Because Jigsaw never stays long. The biggest fear of his life is always replaced by a bigger one, and it never takes long.

Because the next dreams, Adam never remembers when he wakes up. He doesn't have to. It's enough to just remember the fragments, the throaty moans and the lips on his neck, the hands on his skin that weren't exactly gentle, but they didn't need that, they didn't have the time.

That's all he remembers. But that's also all he needs, because the moisture in the sheets, the dull throbbing between his legs, are a sure proof, too.

It's been three days. And of course, just that makes Adam miss Lawrence so much that it should really be physically impossible, but he still doesn't go see him. Just because seeing his face would be such a strong reminder about how stupid he'd been that it almost wouldn't make it worth it to see him at all. Almost.

Because he really doesn't get how he could do that. He really doesn't get how he could love Lawrence so much, and still drag him so straight down to hell that he might as well put a gun to his head and get it over with.

Lawrence is married. Married. He has a daughter and a wife, and he was seconds away from never seeing them again.

Adam has nothing. He has nothing to give, hell, he barely has anything left for himself as it is. He's dysfunctional and terrified of everything, he's so scarred up inside and so scared of intimacy that he treats anyone who's stupid enough to even try to approach him like crap.

And now he's planning on pulling Lawrence into that. It's nothing consciously, the only thing he wants is to march into Lawrence's room, spin his gown into his fists and kiss him, taste his generosity, give him his thankfulness.

But even though that's all Adam wants right now, he knows damn well that whether he likes it or not, just that one kiss will trigger a nurturing instinct in Lawrence that he won't be able to resist. And neither will Adam.

Lawrence will try to save him if he starts caring about him too much. And he won't realize that Adam's beyond saving until it's too late.

So Adam won't go to Lawrence's room. That's the plan. Or was.

But of course, Lawrence has to ruin that plan all together, as he always does with his damn rationality.

Lawrence is smart this time, though. He actually sent someone else to set Adam off on his behalf, so he wouldn't have to face the fury. Adam almost would've been proud of his ability to push his own mistakes onto someone else if he hadn't been so annoyed with him.

He wishes he could push it over to someone else, too.

That someone else would have to act on the words on the little piece of paper.

_Adam, you can't ignore me forever. Come to my room. We need to talk. _

Adam sighs and looks at the nurse who brought him the note. She looks positively horrified.

"He gave you this?"

"Yes."

"Lawrence gave you this?"

"Yes."

Adam eyes her over.

How old can she be, twenty? Newly graduated?

Either way, she's pretty as a picture, not even the baggy scrubs can hide her figure. Adam manages to put his eyes on her face again.

"Have you slept with him to make him write better evaluations?"

The nurse's eyes widen even more.

"What?"

"Nothing," Adam says and stands up from his bed, walks past her out to the hallway.

He loves messing with the nurses, simply because when he's not thinking about Lawrence, that's the only entertainment he gets around here. They're easy targets since they have to spend time with him but can't give comebacks, they're easily annoyed and they're hot, but he doesn't care right now. Fucking Naomi Watts could be his nurse, he still wouldn't enjoy watching her struggle to keep from snapping back at him.

His biggest problem right now is Lawrence. And it's something he can't fix by writing it down on a piece of paper and give to a nurse.

He has to deal with it. That's completely new for him.

Adam opens the door to Lawrence's room with a bang, just to make himself seem more terrifying than he is, and it doesn't seem to work, anyway. Lawrence just looks up from his Solitaire with polite incomprehension, and smiles when he sees Adam's face.

"Adam."

"Yeah," Adam says and feels to his annoyance most of his anger washing away just by seeing him. "What the hell do you mean by this?"

He tries to toss the note over to Lawrence, but it just flutters about halfway over to his bed and then lands tranquilly on the floor. But Lawrence knows what he means. That shows by just that mild amusement on his face that makes all of Adam's irritation rush back in a heartbeat.

"We do have to talk, don't we?" Lawrence says calmly and beckons to his bed. Adam doesn't sit down.

"No, in fact, we don't," Adam bites back, and his irritation grows, turns into anger. "What the fuck is there to talk about?"

Lawrence doesn't answer, just looks back at Adam in a way that's so much more clarifying than any words he could speak.

And so much more condemning. In fact, it makes Adam cold inside.

"Man…" he begins, tries to find a way to make this Lawrence's fault. "What do you want me to say? You want me to apologize? For… For doing that?"

"Why is that so unthinkable?" Lawrence says, finally a little annoyed, and throws his hands out. "I'm trying to make things work here, Adam! And that was hard enough before, and now I have… I have a goddamned reattached foot! You think this won't be hard enough _with _your help?"

That's the kind of argument you should save to the end of a fight. So it could be like in a movie, with actors yelling at each other from across the room, Kate Winslet welling up and Leonardo DiCaprio sputtering that she knows damn well that she loves him, and that's when Kate quiets down into elegant sobs, Leo puts a comforting and degrading arm around her and you know they'll have makeup-sex soon.

But it doesn't work like that. Life doesn't work like it does in the movies, and that bothers Adam, because then he would've known that this would work our for the best, one way or the other, just because that was the way it had to turn out. He'd known that Lawrence would save his crush-and-blow-argument to the very last moment, so Adam could at least pretend to have a defense. If only for a moment.

But it doesn't. Lawrence doesn't give him any time, he hits him over the head with it straight away: Adam is a bad person.

And as many times as Adam's told himself that over the years, again and again, it's never been quite as painful as it is now.

Up until now, he's only been a horrible person against himself. And why would he be nice with himself? Treating himself like crap was the same as doing that with your worst enemy, of course he would do that!

But seeing Lawrence's disappointed eyes looking up at him makes it unavoidable. Everything he's tried to hide from, everyone he's hurt just by being himself reflects in Lawrence's eyes, bounce back at him, reflect everything he doesn't want to see.

Reflect the past. But hopefully not the future.

Adam hopes the future will be happier than Lawrence's eyes are right now. But it doesn't sound very believable.

But Adam still wants it. He hopes. For some reason.

So he sits down on the edge of Lawrence's bed, he looks down on his hands and tries to find a good excuse. Because he knows that if he loses him now, the future will be like the past. Just as bleak, just as loveless and grim.

"I'm sorry," Adam says, sincerely, and hopes that it's not heard through the filter of refusal to admit that he's wrong. "Seriously. I… I want it to work out between you two, but… You know. I get lost."

Lawrence nods. Adam doesn't dare to look at him, but he knows that anyway.

"I know."

Pause.

"Adam."

Adam mumbles something in response.

"You know I really can't stand the thought of losing you, right?"

Adam rolls his eyes with a sigh, and looks at Lawrence now, since it feels safe to do it when he's frustrated. Most things feel safe then.

"Is this your way of making things easier?" he says smoothly, and Lawrence laughs, but quiets down almost straight away.

After that, they don't say anything for a while.

"I'm sorry," Lawrence then says, and Adam stops looking at him again. "It's just hard. If you look at the way life used to be… Going back to it seems unthinkable. I don't want to do that. But I don't want to lose Allison, either. And without Diana, I wouldn't survive. I want there to be some sort of… Middle way."

Adam nods to himself. That makes sense.

He wishes there was a middle way, too. But how would that be?

If he doesn't kiss Lawrence soon, he's going to explode. And that can't be compromised. You either do it or you don't.

"Then don't go back there," Adam says, and crosses his legs underneath him. "Don't be that guy. Just… Stay home with Diana sometimes instead of coming here and taking out people's appendixes. And maybe screw your wife instead of your interns sometimes. You know, if it's not too much trouble."

Lawrence chuckles. But he doesn't sound happy.

"It shouldn't be," he says quietly. "If I think about what's best for them, it should be the first thing that comes to mind. But… I was selfish, that was the problem. If I'd thought about them instead of myself, I wouldn't have… Gotten them into that situation."

Adam looks at him again, but not as softly as before. His eyes are sharp, vigilant.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Adam says, almost suspiciously. "You think it's your fault they ended up there?"

Lawrence doesn't even get to answer before he goes on.

"Lawrence," Adam hisses out between gritted teeth, his eyes are slits, "if you _ever _think like that again, I'll hurt you in a way that Jigsaw wouldn't even be able to do half of. You get me?"

Lawrence smiles wearily, like it's cute that Adam things he can ever do so much damage. That pisses him off even more.

If it weren't for Lawrence, Adam wouldn't even be here right now. And if Lawrence holds Jigsaw's bottled-up hatred against himself, he questions everything Adam believes in, and he won't let him do that. No way.

"Jigsaw was a fucking psycho, and he happened to set his red, scary eyes on you," Adam goes on. "And that would've happened even if you carried Diana to school on a red fucking velvet pillow, you're not a bad husband, or father, you just got a shitty deal. Okay?"

Lawrence nods, with a small smile that would be degrading if someone else did it, but when he does it, it's just because he understands. Not just what Adam says, but what he means.

And then it's another one of those moments.

Lawrence's smile fades away, Adam's eyes are bored into his, like he's still trying to convince him of something, even though now, it's something else.

It's the fact that he doesn't want to look away.

"Adam," Lawrence says.

Maybe his tone is supposed to be warning, but it isn't. He just sounds like he's still trying to push Adam away, but doesn't really have the energy anymore.

And even if he had all the energy in the world, it wouldn't cover up the undertone of pulsing desire.

The one that tells Adam that Lawrence wants this, too.

So Adam jumps forward, it's a miracle that he can do it without hitting Lawrence's foot, but that's the last thing he thinks about, his hands are on both sides of Lawrence's face and he only feels the quivering breath on his face for a second before he kisses him again, closes the painful gap between them.

He has to. Just this once.

Just one time, and he'll get it out of his system. Just one time, just a second of thinking nothing of Lawrence but only of himself, only himself, and yes, Lawrence, too. It's impossible not to think of him right now.

Lawrence grumbles, deep in his chest, bring his hands to Adam's waist.

"Adam," he mumbles, but Adam kisses him again, before he can answer and before Lawrence can say anything.

He doesn't want to listen. Whatever Lawrence is going to say, it's something bad, he knows that.

Something that will make Adam remember that he loves Lawrence too much to do this.

Lawrence's tongue roams over Adam's for only a few seconds before he gets a grip again, tries to pull away, but Adam pretends not to notice.

Lawrence wishes he could do that, too.

"Adam," Lawrence murmurs and stifles a moan when Adam moves down to his neck, kisses, licks, nibbles, and in every single possible way, robs him of his words. "I can't…"

"Don't," Adam mutters bluntly and lets his hand wander down, under Lawrence's hospital gown, strokes over his thigh.

His hands are so hot. They defrost him.

"Adam, Christ sake!" Lawrence hisses and grabs Adam's wrist before his hand gets even hotter.

Adam reluctantly takes his face from Lawrence's neck, but Lawrence can't make eye contact with him.

It's either his or Adam's eyes that are so darkly lustful that they've managed to hide in the rest of the black.

"I…" Lawrence stutters out and grabs Adam's other hand when it refuses to stay still. "I… Want it to work… With…"

"Shut up," Adam says huskily and wriggles his one hand out of Lawrence's grasp. "Just shut up."

Lawrence almost whimpers out loud when Adam's free hand sneaks up his gown again, over his stomach, grazes over his navel.

No. No. Don't.

"Adam," Lawrence says again, but doesn't even bother to grab his hand this time. "I can't… I have a _wife, _goddamn it…"

"Shut. Up."

Firmly, almost angrily.

And without any warning, his hand goes down, way too quickly, Lawrence can't brace himself, can't protect himself from the stab of ecstasy when Adam's palm slides over the red, hot ache between his legs, can't pretend he still has a chance.

Adam grins weakly when he hears Lawrence drawing in air, leans closer until their breaths mix together in a hot, wanting airstream.

"You tell me you don't want this," Adam murmurs, moves his hand up to Lawrence's hip and jams his knee in between his thighs, crashing against his erection, and without waiting for an answer, he leans in again, swallows his gasp and plunders his mouth, takes everything he should've gotten long ago.

And Lawrence gives up. Both he and Adam feels it, feels something inside him breaking like a rubber band you've pulled on too long, kept waiting for too long, and moves his hand down to Adam's waist, presses him closer. Needs him closer.

Wants him. Just this once.

Just this once, Lawrence should get to grab the rim of Adam's hospital gown and pull it over his head, not even bother to look at the naked body he's been lusting for so long, or at least that's what it feels like, every second feels like an eternity when Adam only leaves his lips to pull his gown away, too, moans weakly but not wasting any time on that when he moves down to Lawrence's neck, tastes his skin with open-lipped kisses, over his chest, his stomach, then up to his mouth, always changing directions but keeping a steady trek with his hand when it moves against Lawrence's crotch, grabs his erection and feels his groan vibrate through his tongue.

He deserves it. He fucking deserves it.

And Allison's going to have Lawrence for the rest of her life. She'll be the one who feels his fingers clenching into her waist when she strokes him, she'll be the one feeling his nails raking down her back, rippling deep in her muscles and landing between her legs.

Adam should get one time. Because he still has something with Lawrence that she'll never have, something she wouldn't get even if they'd been _happy _all these years.

And even though Adam wouldn't let Lawrence share that with her if his life depended on it, he still somehow thinks he should get to share what she has with him. It makes sense to him somehow.

Even though nothing else does right now.

**Why the hell are they so surprised? Didn't they know this was coming? Idiots… Either way, I've given you a dominant Adam, you give me reviews! **


	7. The Perfect Goodbye

**A/N: Hi everybody! Since there was some hot makeout in the last chapter, I of course have to make things horrible again in this one, since that's the way I work. Hope you like it! :)**

**7: The Perfect Goodbye**

When Lawrence was in med school, he had a teacher who told him, some night when he'd first seen a person dying and had to sit with his head between his knees just to save himself from passing out: _Expect the unexpected, and you will never be surprised. _

It hadn't had much effect right then. Very few words of wisdom were taken in when you have your head between your knees, but when Lawrence had straightened up, walked through the rest of the year and walked into a career of uncertainty, it had been what got him through the day.

He expected the unexpected. All the time. And it worked, because he never got surprised. But somewhere along the way, he stopped repeating this to himself when he put his lab coat on, he even stopped carrying these words like a constant presence in his backbone, and he stopped expecting things at all, because he was so convinced that nothing ever would surprise him anymore.

And while he's in the hospital, that's probably a correct statement. He's preformed basically every surgery ever tried in modern medicine and he knows them all. He doesn't expect anything from them anymore.

But the problem is that he's started thinking like that about everything. Including personal life. Including love.

And right now, Lawrence can't help but thinking that if he'd expected this, maybe it wouldn't have been a surprise. Maybe Adam wouldn't have gotten the element of surprise, along with his roaming hands, his hot, wet mouth.

Maybe he could've braced himself for it.

But in the meantime, how could he ever expect this? How could he ever expect to go from being in love because it was convenient and didn't demand any sort of effort from his part, to being as drop-dead, ridiculously in love as he didn't allow himself to be in his teens because it was so much more important to get good grades and getting into college?

He couldn't have expected this. He knows that, and it annoys him endlessly.

Only Adam can make him this passionate about anything. Seems like that alone is reason enough to make him act like a lovesick little high school boy.

Lawrence rakes his hand through his hair with a low mutter at the back of his throat.

_Damn you, Adam, _he thinks to himself and sits up in his bed. His left foot feels like it's filled with liquid metal, floating heavily back and forth. _It's impossible to win with you, isn't it? _

Lawrence starts looking around for his crutches. It's been a week since Adam and him last talked, and even then, it wasn't as much a talk as it was Adam tiptoeing out of Lawrence's room when the gloomy morning light started seeping through the blinders, hoping Lawrence wouldn't wake up and when he did, called out his name in a sleepy whisper, solving it by sneaking back to his bedside, kissing his forehead softly and murmur those words again: _I love you, Lawrence. Go to sleep. _

Lawrence did. But only because he was high on morphine and hadn't slept much that night and because he was so much in love that he'd do anything Adam asked for.

And since then, he's done nothing but physical therapy, straining his reattached foot until his therapist told him that okay, now he _had _to lie down. And it's just so he'll be able to talk to Adam face to face.

Because he knows Adam well enough by now to know that a note won't get him to come here.

So Lawrence limps on the crutches through the hallways, curses to himself when drops the crutch a few times and is very thankful when he finds the name _Faulkner, Adam James _on a clipboard next to a door, because his foot has started to hurt more than his physical therapist would ever allow.

Adam doesn't look up when Lawrence comes in. He's playing Solitaire, like Lawrence did that goddamned night, and even though Lawrence knows that he knows it's him, since the nurses always knocks before they chirp their light-voiced little hello, Adam focuses so hard on his cards that Lawrence has time to hobble up to the chair next to his bed, put his chin in his hand and watch Adam finish his game and start shuffling the cards again until he gets sick of it.

"Adam," he says sharply, and Adam sighs, annoyed, and drops the deck of cards, like he doesn't get why Lawrence can't take a hint.

"_What?" _he hisses and pushes his table away so rapidly it slams into the opposite wall.

Lawrence doesn't answer. He just smiles weakly when he sees Adam annoyance. It can't be safe to be this incapable of staying angry with someone.

The fury in Adam's gaze tones down after a moment, but he still seems to be too ashamed to say anything, while Lawrence just wants to drink in the sight of him, in a hospital bed but looking stronger than ever, so they just sit there. Stare at each other.

"I got discharged today," Adam says after what feels for almost a whole minute of staring contest.

Lawrence smiles warmly and takes his chin out of his hand.

"That's amazing, Adam," he says and means it.

Adam nods to himself, but in that way that makes it obvious that Lawrence thinks these news are better than he does.

"But you don't think so?" Lawrence coaxes and lets his hands hang across the armrests of his chair.

Adam hisses something and shrugs angrily. His annoyance is rising again. And it's impossible for Lawrence to be angry when he has an emotional yoyo to take care of.

"I don't get why the hell I'm supposed to be happy about that!" he blurts out and throws his hand up in the air. "I'll be there, you'll be here, your goddamned _wife _will visit you instead of me, because I'll be busy with therapy and anger management and whatever the _fuck _these fucking doctors think is appropriate for a nutcase like me!"

"That'll just be good for you, Adam," Lawrence says calmly, and when Adam's furiously flashing eyes travel to his face again, it's obvious that he was hoping for a more outraged reaction. "Knowing you, you wouldn't let anyone help you deal with this if it weren't hospital policy."

Adam's eyes turn into slits, his anger is glistening little needle points in the dark. His hands clench and open in irregular fists, but Lawrence finds it very hard to take him seriously.

Maybe because it was the exact same anger he felt towards Adam a week ago. That anger that's just there because it's easier to feel than the love. The love and the fear.

"Who the fuck are you to talk?" Adam yells, despite Lawrence's growing smile. "You want to talk about dealing with problems?! I'm not the one who refuses to divorce my wife just because 'she doesn't deserve it,' who are you to pretend you can solve problems?!"

So much frustration, so much kicking and screaming when they both know they can't do anything about it.

Lawrence doesn't have any balls. He's not going to deny that. If he had, he would've left Allison long ago. All he has is a giant need for control, and something inside him that he can't control and he can't shrug off. It scares the hell out of him.

And all Adam has is a need for control that basically doesn't exist, the ability to act on the thing inside him as much as he'd like. And a second part of him that can't.

Lawrence feels more sorry for him than he could ever say for that. He wishes Adam could see how much he'd like to act on it, too, and understand it, if only on some level. But Adam doesn't work that way, he knows that. He's not so ruled by facts that he has to, his emotions are his voice. And look how well that turns out.

Lawrence doesn't say any of that out loud. He just puts his hands together, leans his fingertips against his chin. Looks Adam in the eye in a way that he hopes will make him understand.

Adam understands. Lawrence can see the hope leaving his body and his shoulders drop, and he immediately wants it to come back. At least one of them should think this can work.

"I don't have any balls," Lawrence says after a few seconds. "I never said I did. But you have to understand why I don't, Adam."

Adam sighs, rolls his eyes and immediately goes back to that frustrated teenager with a crush. That makes Lawrence incredibly relieved.

"Yeah, I get it," he mutters. "Nothing I do matters and I can fuck you all I want, she's still more important. What's not to get."

"You know that's not what it is," Lawrence says strictly, finally a little annoyed. "I just told you, I don't have any balls. I want to make it work with her. And she'll never understand me the way you do, or care about me the way you do, but I still want to make it work with her."

Adam scoffs.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" he says bitterly. "Jigsaw got you because you thought like that, for fucks sake. You have to saw off both feet before you learn?"

Lawrence sighs theatrically and drops his hands. His patience is fading. Maybe because the constant need for control wants to force Adam to understand. Comprehend the incomprehensible.

Things would be so much easier that way.

"If you say so," Lawrence says wearily, icily. "Do you think we'll be able to stay away from each other?"

"No," Adam bites back between clenched teeth.

"Okay. Then get out of here, and we'll solve that the next time we meet."

Adam has slammed the door shut behind him before he manages to finish the sentence.

**Aw, those poor idiots… They never learn what happens when you don't hook Adam and Lawrence up, even if you actually are Adam and Lawrence! You get the fangirls set off! XD Anyway, please review, even though you probably hate me right now!**


	8. Too Much Time To Kill

**A/N: Hey hey hey! Time for some updating! And no, it contains absolutely no smut, because… Well, Adam and Lawrence aren't in the same room as each other. They do talk on the phone, though, which does bring some possibilities, but… Let's leave it at that. XD**

**8: Too Much Time to Kill**

Adam was born in the eighties. He started watching TV around the age of four, when he woke up at six every morning and his mom had to make sure that he didn't wake up his dad, so she put him in front of their tiny TV set, she made pancakes so they'd be ready hours before everyone else woke up, she'd drown them in syrup and let Adam eat them with his hands while he inhaled the scent of bleaching and milk from her bathrobe.

It's a very strong memory. Still, more than twenty years later. Adam remembers the pancakes, mom's arms around his waist, the closed door to hers and dad's bedroom. And one thing he remembers clearly was that by the time mom had finished the pancakes, it was usually only a few minutes left until the Raggy Dolls was on.

Ah, yes. The Raggy Dolls. Adam's entire childhood squeezed into a one-minute-long intro song. Or maybe just into the lines: _Don't be scared if you don't fit in, look who's in the reject bin!_

The whole moral of the Raggy Dolls, as Adam's understood it about fifteen years after he couldn't even watch it for nostalgic reasons, is that no matter who you are or how messed up you may be, you can still have a wonderful life. Because the Raggy Dolls are the dolls that have been rejected from the toy factory because they're not as pretty as the rest of the dolls, and God knows they have a lot more fun than the pretty dolls. Hell, they're the ones who've got a whole show about them, don't they?

It's really a coincidence that Adam flips over that show when he's at home, hasn't gotten off the couch for about three days and waits for the hollowness to go away. But when the Raggy Dolls are there, he finds it impossible to switch it off, even though the bright colors and the shrill little voices of the dolls mostly give him a headache now days, and he stays there, with his fingers on the remote, stares at the screen. Long after the episode is over.

It's not until he's been sitting there for a while that he notices that the tears are streaming down his face, and when he does, Adam wipes them away with swift movements, impatient pride.

It really is a bit too stupid with a grown man to wish that he were more like the cartoon characters on his TV-screen. But right now, Adam really wishes he could be sucked into their world, or at least back into his mother's arms, just bore his face into the thread-born terry cloth of her bathrobe and disappear for a while.

Adam really wishes he could look in the reject bin and find all these cool dolls that he could hang out with. That he could laugh at all the pretty dolls up in the factory that thought they had such a perfect life.

But as it is, he's one of those rejects that didn't even make it to the reject bin. He's one who got dropped on the way over there and is now sitting in a corner, the dust is gathering up.

No one's going to make a show about him.

And the only doll he wants is up there, far away from the rejects. With his perfect daughter and his perfect wife.

Adam rubs his hand against his cheek again and finally stands up. And yes, now he could make his glorious run to win Lawrence's heart, but instead, he walks straight up to the fridge and takes a beer out.

He drinks a lot of beers now days. And that little box of joints he bought on a bar somewhere years ago that he keeps tucked away in a cupboard gets emptier every day. Maybe he has gotten off the cough, but doesn't remember it anymore.

Adam stays by the fridge for a while. Doesn't close the door. Sips on the beer.

"I'm a junkie doll," he then says to himself.

Then he laughs so loud that the tears seem to disappear. Even though the laughter almost seems worse.

Adam decides that having to actually stand up to get a beer for the rest of the night would just be too hard. So he takes out all the alcohol he's got left in the fridge, takes it with him to the coffee table, goes back to get the ice cream just so he'll have something to throw up. He thinks about getting a bowl, but almost immediately decides that it'd be too much dishes, so he just gets a spoon.

Adam sits down on the couch. Lawrence's absence is a grinding ache next to him, but he's almost gotten used to it by now.

He falls asleep almost two hours later, after flipping through the channels again and again in hope of finding the Raggy Dolls, or just some kind of broken individual he can identify himself with.

xxxxxxxxxxx

It's not like Lawrence isn't happy that Allison comes to see him every day. And she brings Diana, which is always a plus. If not just because he loves her more than life itself, then because she's the sure proof that he's learned his lesson.

Because he doesn't look at her once without that sudden sting in his heart, that thought that he still can't get rid off.

He could've lost her. But she's here now.

Her sparkling brown eyes are still smiling up on him. And Lawrence is so thankful for that that it's stupid, and he's happy that Allison comes to him every day and he's happy that she brings Diana. Of course.

But what he told Adam before was true. Because it's still obvious that whatever he had with Adam, whatever frail shard of a relationship is something he will never have with her. And it's almost too clear to ignore by now.

It gets clearer every time he sees her. Clearer every time he sees her frightened, widened eyes when he talks to her about the bathroom that she'll never be able to help him.

Adam would never look frightened when he talked about the bathroom. The only thing in his eyes would be that thin shell of bitter recognition.

And as weird as it may sound, that bitterness is the only thing that can make things better at those times.

Allison will never have that. And even though her bitterness was the thing that bothered Lawrence the most before the bathroom, he'd give the world to get it back right now, get rid of that meek attempt of understanding that's taken its place now.

"Are you still seeing him?" Allison asks one of those days. "Adam?"

"Adam?" Lawrence asks and pretends that that name isn't what gives him the energy to sit up in the mornings. "Well… Yeah, occasionally. But he's been discharged, and he lives quite a bit away from here, so…"

Allison nods and puts one foot up on the bed. Lawrence can't help but feeling intruded.

"I wish he could come by more often, though," he says when that feeling pricks through his rationality.

More to himself than to her.

"You still haven't let me meet him," Allison says softly and places her hand on her knee.

Lawrence chuckles weakly. He can't bring himself to look at her.

"You wouldn't like him anyway," he says with a small smile. "He's too stupid, you two wouldn't get along."

Allison smiles, too, even though she feels the distance growing between them as much as he does.

"As stupid as you used to be?" she asks, and even though Lawrence doesn't love her and he gets that now, his heart aches when he hears the cracks in her voice.

"Stupider," he says and looks at her again.

Allison nods. Then they sit quietly for a few seconds, before she stands up and says that she has to pick up Diana from school, kisses his cheek and leaves.

Lawrence is left with his stupidity as only company. He almost preferred it when she was here.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam is lying on his couch.

The TV is on. Even though they probably won't show Raggy Dolls at this hour.

Adam is drunk. He's not even standing up, but everything is still swimming in and out of his vision, the fabric of the cushions is slippery and sticky under his palms. And he's crying, in a way he never does when he's sober and there are just a few stubborn tears that refuse to be blinked away, but with big, warm tears welling up and rolling down, and he doesn't even try to wipe them away since there'll always be more.

It never ends. It's just the same thing again and again, and it's never going to end.

He just wanted something to take his focus from it for a while. Something to keep his attention and the rest could just play like a bad song in the background in a bar.

And he can't have that. He can't even have that.

Adam falls asleep again a few minutes later, probably from the drunkenness or the exhaustion or the lack of oxygen, the weight on his chest that keeps him from breathing, or it's the silence that's turned into a giant wave that lifts him from here.

xxxxxxxxxxx

When Adam wakes up the second time, it's already dark outside. The cold is creeping into his apartment through a crack in the window. Flat snowflakes are dancing in the light of the streetlamp.

The premonition of tomorrow's hangover is already throbbing against his temples. But for some reason, it feels obvious what he's going to do now.

Adam fumbles for the phone on the table next to the couch. He knows Lawrence is allowed to have his cell phone in his room, and he knows he answers it after just one signal, because he's so bored.

He's called so many times, but always hung up as soon as Lawrence picked up. Never talked to him, never dared to.

He dares to now, though. God bless the alcohol.

It takes more than one signal now. Adam looks at the clock above the TV, and it says three thirty. Maybe that has something to do with it?

"Hello?"

Adam flinches when Lawrence's grumbled voices in the receiver. But he doesn't answer. He really has no idea what to say.

"Hey."

_That's incredibly creative, _someone in his head says.

Lawrence says nothing. The silence is crackling softly in the phone, sounds like a fire between them, something that can be big and roaring and devour anything that tries to get past it. But that they've smothered. Suffocated. With their silence.

"How are you?" Lawrence asks after a few seconds.

Adam sighs. Tears fall down, but he doesn't really notice them.

"I'm doing drugs again," he says.

His voice sounds fragile. Lawrence sighs, too. But in a different way.

"Well, that's not very good," he says.

The softness in his previous words is gone. The tears fall a little quicker.

"No," Adam replies. "But I don't know what else to do."

Pause.

"I understand."

Adam nods. He runs his hand over his cheek, but he doesn't notice that, either.

Even his subconscious tries to deny how much he's missed this voice.

"If I don't get to see you again…"

Adam can't finish the sentence. But Lawrence understands. He knows he does.

They don't hang up, even though none of them say anything after that. Adam falls asleep again a while later, not because he's drunk or exhausted, but because the sound of Lawrence's breathing sooths everything else, the loss, the memories, the threats that aren't empty, even though he wants them to be, but too true for him to fall asleep to the sound of something else.

He can't sleep without Lawrence. And without sleep, you die. The logic is obvious, even to him.

**Damn, Adam should know he's immortal in the fanfiction-world… Lawrence can die every once in a while, but never Adam! **_**Ever! **_**Anyway, with that cleared out… Maybe some reviewing? ;) **


	9. It Doesn't Have To Be Love

**A/N: Weeee, I'm back with a chapter! And I'm not going to lie to you: Just like the last one, it's really angsty (but then again, that can have something to do with the fact that it's me who wrote it) but… That doesn't mean there can't be makeout-scenes. Thank God for that. XD Either way, READ!**

**9: It Doesn't Have To Be Love**

Days go by.

Adam doesn't have a lot to do. He learns the TV tabloids by heart, since he rarely leaves the house. He smokes more than ever, and when the cigarettes are gone, he rarely has the energy to go out and get more. That leaves him edgy and fidgeting, but at least it works as a slow, and fairly inconsistent, rehab.

He sees the life passing by outside his window. People going to work, coming home a couple of hours later, when Adam's just managed to get out of bed and rummaged around in his fridge to find something to eat. He sees them bickering, shopping, having coffee, picking their kids up from school.

He's always known that they have something that he doesn't. But he's never really been jealous of them.

Adam's started looking through the job advertisements. One day, he notices that a food chain's looking for a photographer for their commercials. He scribbles down the location for the interview on a napkin and leaves right after, he gulps down the last spoonfuls of his cereals while he's putting on his shoes.

The company doesn't seem too excited. They're going to get back to him, but they don't. Adam doesn't really care, though.

He's never been on a job interview before. He tried this time. He didn't just stood by and thought he wouldn't get the job, anyway.

He tried. That's enough for now.

Days go by. Turn into weeks.

Adam doesn't smoke that much anymore. And he doesn't do a lot of drugs. Just sometimes, those times when everything just feels black and he curls up on a ball on the floor and thinks that he _has _to die now, this time he has to, even though he made it the last time he felt like this, nothing can feel this bad and not be death. But he never dies, he always wakes up the next morning. And life goes on after that, as weird as it may sound.

Adam keeps going to job interviews. Not a lot comes from it, but that's okay. His time will come.

And there's still something big and black and sharp settled in his chest. It almost gets too much sometimes, in fact. What Adam feels right now isn't happiness, it's just an unusually efficient form of the emotional numbness he felt before the bathroom. It's more like he feels too miserable for his body to hold it, so instead, he feels nothing. And since he has nothing to do, he might as well try to get to where the people outside his window are.

Hell, his life is already so messed up that he can't even be annoyed about it anymore. Why not use the opportunity to try to get it back on track?

Right now, it's mostly about making himself realize that there's a life without Lawrence. That insight is, much like his own misery right now, too big to fit into his mind or his body, so he hasn't been able to be upset about it yet. If he had, he might've realized that it's not possible, so he might as well stay on his couch and smoke and booze until he rots away. But he hasn't realized that yet, so he might as well take advantage of it.

He just wishes he could feel _something. _

When you don't feel the sorrow, neither do you feel the joy.

Just like when you aren't that shaken up about that you were almost killed a few weeks ago, it doesn't matter much that you survived, either.

Adam tries to find a life without Lawrence. And it goes fairly well. He's looking for a job, he smokes a little less. It goes fairly well.

The activities are available. It's just that they don't matter much anymore.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The physical therapy has worked. Lawrence can almost walk on his right foot by now.

The scars heal. They'll always be there, but they heal. Which is weird, since it's been so long since he saw the only thing he knows can heal him.

Lawrence doesn't have a recovering life to focus on. He has physical therapy two hours a day, but the rest of the time, he's left with his thoughts.

He misses Adam. His heart aches with how much he misses Adam.

It's like a part of him is missing. Like something so much more important than his foot was left behind in that bathroom.

Allison still comes to see him. She always brings Diana, and the few times she comes alone, Lawrence is faced with the always heartbreaking realization that they really have nothing to talk about.

He stays with her for Diana. He knows that. She's starting to get it, too.

But he's starting to wonder if that's enough reason.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam comes home one day and notices that there's a message on his machine.

That's such an event to him that he stops in the motion of throwing his jacket on the couch and stares at it for a while.

He's never had a message on that machine before. The only one who's ever wanted anything from Adam is his landowner who nags him for rent, and he can tell him that in the hallway. This is something else.

Wow. Adam's needed. Who knew?

Adam sits down on the armrest of the couch and presses the button on the machine - damn, it's been so long that he barely knows which button to press anymore - and feels something very deep stirring in him when Lawrence's voice fills the room.

"Hi, Adam."

Pause. Adam puts his foot on the armrest, places his chin on it.

He'd almost forgotten what Lawrence sounded like, too.

"I… I just called to see how things were. And since you don't pick up, I assume you're either out doing things, or have passed out on the couch. I hope for the former."

Adam smiles briefly. Lawrence doesn't say anything for a while.

"Please call me."

Softer now.

"You have my number, and… I miss you. Okay?"

Pause. Like he's waiting for an answer.

"Bye."

Click. Adam doesn't hesitate for a second, he picks up the phone right away and his fingers dial faster than he thought them capable of.

He knows Lawrence's number by heart. Even though he never dared to call him.

"Hello?"

Lawrence seems to have been eager, too. He answers so quickly, his phone must've been right in front of him on the nightstand.

"Hey, man," Adam says and rakes a hand through his hair.

He's already shaking. Lawrence doesn't say anything, and neither does Adam. When Lawrence speaks again, it's lowly, like something very fragile will break if he's heard.

Which it will.

So much can be ruined if someone hears them now.

"Can't you come here?"

Adam shakes his head, even though Lawrence can't see it.

"No."

"Please. Adam…"

"No."

Every fiber in his being disagrees with what he says. They seem to be boiling, aching, burning for him.

"Please."

"Lawrence…"

Adam didn't know what to say first. Felt nothing, just the slight melancholy when you realize that everything is ruined but the insight hasn't really sunken in yet, but now, he starts feeling again. And he could feel love, hurt, longing, but he doesn't. He feels anger, because that's so much simpler. Angry people don't get hurt as easily.

Not as easily as the quivering little being inside him, who's already so hurt he doesn't know if he's going to recover.

"I've worked hard," Adam begins, and the anger is welling out into his words, Lawrence must hear it. "_hard _on putting my life back together. Okay? I've worked _really hard _on making a living, because if I ever look like someone that doesn't love every fucking second of his life, that sick fuck is going to come back for me, and I'd prefer it if that didn't happen. So… _Why _are you doing this, huh? Why the _fuck _are you doing this now?"

He sputters out the last few syllables, it's hard to get them out between clenched jaws. But Lawrence just waits for him to finish. He always does.

"Please come here."

Just one sentence. That's all he needs to make Adam half-a-minute-rant to seem completely insignificant. Adam sighs.

"No, I won't."

He already knows he's lost, but like hell he's going to admit it. Lawrence makes some dull, whimpering noise, it sounds weird through the phone.

"I had this dream… This nightmare."

Pause.

"He was here. I saw him. It was so clear, I… I'm… _Scared, _Adam…"

Adam sighs again.

It hurts to hear Lawrence sound like this. Listening to his hero turned into something so small and pitiful.

"I don't think… I'm ever going to let this go," Lawrence says, with a little more strength now. "But I know it helps when you're here. I was an idiot to think I'd make this without you. Please. Come here."

Adam doesn't answer, since he doesn't want to make his defeat just that obvious. Instead, he hangs up without another word, puts on his jacket and doesn't even lock the door behind him.

It's not like he has anything anyone would want to steal, anyway.

Adam's sweaty when he reaches the hospital. He's probably walked a lot faster than he intended to, but who can blame him. Lawrence is a wound he just barely managed to close on his own, and now, he came along and tore up the stitches, and Adam's bleeding. It hurts, endlessly. But he does know how to make it go away.

He enters Lawrence's room without any lack of noise. His feet slam into the floor and the door bangs shut behind him, but Adam doesn't care, and Lawrence doesn't seem to, either. He reaches his arms out for Adam, and Adam crawls up into his embrace, melts into his warmth for a second, but doesn't waste too much time on that.

He needs bandages for his open wound. Right now.

Or, it doesn't even have to be bandages, the wound doesn't even have to heal. Just something to make the pain go away.

So Adam sits down across Lawrence's laps, puts both hands around his face and kisses him, kisses him, kisses him, deeply, with teeth and tongue, and his hands doesn't stay on his face for long, go straight to the hem of his gown and tears it over Lawrence's head. Wants him, all of him, and presses their lips together again.

Lawrence seems to say something beneath it all. Beneath the panting breathing, and the clatter of Adam's belt. Something that almost sounds like: "I love you."

If that's what he says, Adam doesn't want to hear it. He knows Lawrence will take it back tomorrow morning, anyway, so right now, he wants him to just shut up and fuck him already. Just wants everything to feel okay for a little bit, before tomorrow comes and everything will be taken back, the words and the kisses and the mutual need, and it'll be just like before, just like before.

**AW! I love forcing those two to make out and then torture them by not letting them get together just yet! XD So, review and let me know how much you love it! **


	10. No Happy Ending

**A/N: Hi there! Yeah, I know I've been even slower with updating than usual, but… I actually did have a whole chapter, even one I was pretty happy with, right here on my computer, but… ARGH! The damn thing deleted itself somehow! And, being the sensitive (cough) artistic soul that I am, I wasn't that excited about rewriting the whole thing. But, being the extremely devoted fanfiction-geek that I also am, I did it anyway! Probably not as good as the first draft, but either way, enjoy! :)**

**10: No Happy Ending**

Adam wakes up.

He notices right away how much he's missed Lawrence. It's a thought too big for a newly awakened mind, like when you eat something too heavy or sugary for breakfast. That small thing you register, like how cold his bed has been for the past few weeks, the smell of dried sweat and the hand on his waist.

He's missed it. By god, he's missed it so much.

And he will miss it. But he can't stay, he knows that.

Lawrence isn't even planning on leaving his wife. And Adam isn't planning on forcing him, because he loves him. He loves him too much to watch him give everything up, which is an incredibly stupid thing to say, and it sounds like something from a cheesy love novel. But it's true.

Lawrence has everything right in front of him, and he longs for something else because he's bored of it. That's why Jigsaw put him in there in the first place. He's going through some kind of late midlife crisis and thinks he falls in love with someone because trashiness and unemployment is new and exciting when you've never seen anything like it before. It's easy to forget how bored you'll be with it in a little while.

_Adam, you stupid, stupid man, _a little voice in his head says. _Why do you bother? You've never been as good as you make yourself up to be now. _

_You're not going to break up with him because you don't want to drag him down to your level. You're going to break up with him because you know he doesn't love you. _

Adam doesn't answer right away. Runs a soft hand over Lawrence's cheek.

_Yeah. That's exactly it, actually. _

Tears are running down his face. Adam doesn't even try to wipe them away.

They're the good kind of tears. Tears of liberation. Because he's not going to do this anymore.

"Lawrence," he whispers. "Wake up. Lawrence."

Lawrence grunts something, squints against the light. Reaches up to rub the side of his face, but instead grabs Adam's hand.

Adam knows it's by accident. But that one single touch sends a hot jolt through his chest, the determination melts away and he wants to stay there forever again.

Damn it. Why does Lawrence do this to him? Why does he touch him at all?

Shouldn't he know by now that with just the briefest touch, one single word of affection, more stupid hope gets awakened in Adam, something vain and faltering that staggers around on thin legs until reality crushes down on it again?

When Lawrence feels the hand underneath his own, he rolls over to the side and looks at Adam with a silly grin.

"Hey there," he mumbles and grabs Adam's hand again. "How'd you sleep?"

There it is. Something new hatching, deep down. Adam pulls his hand to him again.

"Don't do that," he says weakly.

He tries to avoid Lawrence's confused expression. When he realizes that he has to say something, he blurts out:

"Lawrence, we can't keep doing this."

Still without looking at him. Lawrence sighs, like he knew that Adam would say this, and all he has to do to calm his little sidestep down was to whisper sweet nothings until he melted again.

That thought at least makes Adam a little mad. But of course, it all goes away when he feels Lawrence's hand on his shoulder.

"Adam, I'm sorry I made you come here," Lawrence says softly. "I know it was stupid. And I know we can't go on like this, too. But it's just…"

Pause, he sighs again. Adam knows what he's about to say, and even though he was going to say it, too, the death of that recently born hope is even more painful than the others.

"I couldn't stay away from you," Lawrence whispers, and it takes every ounce of energy Adam has to shrug off the hand on his shoulder. "I couldn't… How could I? You're so… So wonderful… You're wonderful, Adam, you know that?"

Something new hatching. Adam moves away.

"Would you stop it?" he says.

He wants it to come out as a snap, but it just sounds like a plea.

"This isn't working," Adam goes on and turns around. "Don't you get it? Lawrence… What are we doing? Huh?"

Lawrence lowers his gaze, opens his mouth. Adam doesn't wait for an answer, knows what it is, anyway.

It's so easy for Lawrence to think that he loves him. And it'd be so easy to excuse what they're doing with that. Love works as an explanation to anything, for some reason.

"I love you," Lawrence says, indeed. "Adam… We both know I'm too much of a chicken to leave Allison. But I love you. That's what I'm doing. Loving you. That's all I _can _do."

Adam shakes his head. He tries to make himself angry, since he knows from experience that anger is a good way to hide the fact that you're dying inside.

He's a little angry. Angry that Lawrence thinks that he loves him. And angry that Lawrence has made him love him. And he's angry because that's what he is, he's always angry, that's all _he_ can do. He can kick and scream and snap at anyone who tries to get close to him, and that's what he doing right now. But he's dying inside. The hope, and everything else. Dying.

"No, you don't," he says dully. "You have a… Minor thing for me, Lawrence. I love you."

Adam doesn't wait for an answer, he knows Lawrence will just say that he's wrong, anyway, and he can't hear that right now. He has a lot of trouble disagreeing with anything that Lawrence says, so if he says he's wrong, he'll probably think he is.

"You think you love me because I understand you, and because you're sick of your marriage," Adam goes on. "You'd think the same about anyone of the interns you fucked before me. Go to one of them if you want to, but I can't keep up with this anymore."

He tries to get the word out as fast as possible. If he stops talking for a second, his feelings will catch up with him, the death inside will spread and he'll feel just how stupid and terrible the things he says are, how badly he wants to stay here, and he can't let that happen.

If he feels too much, things will go to hell. That's how he's lived up until now, and why change a winning concept.

Adam gets up. Doesn't turn around, doesn't look at Lawrence. He's completely naked, and he couldn't be more rejecting if he wore a multi-layered armor. He slowly gets dressed, and he feels Lawrence's eyes on his back all the time, but he doesn't turn around. For some reason, it feels like his life and death depends on whether or not he turns around.

At last, Adam's wearing all his clothes. He still doesn't look at Lawrence while he walks outside, and still doesn't feel a thing, but still somehow knows that he's so broken that no drugs he has at home will make him happy again.

"Adam."

That's all it takes. Adam stops, of course.

"Do you think we'll be able to stay away from each other?"

Don't turn around. Adam closes his eyes.

_Of course not, _he answers in his mind. _Of course we won't. I'll be back here before you know it. Just ring your little bell, and I'll be there. You have me wrapped around your finger, Lawrence. You know that._

_But it's not because you love me. You don't love me just because you need me. It doesn't work like that. You need distraction from your life, that's what this is about. You could replace me with a movie. _

_There's not much left for me in this life without you. But that doesn't mean that what I feel with you is better than dying. Especially since I'll die bit by bit every time I see you go back to her. _

Adam leaves all those words behind him when he leaves. But he's not sure Lawrence can read them through the tears flowing down.

…**Yeah, they're still idiots. Always have been. XD But then again, what would fanfiction be if it contained smart characters? It's like horror movies; if people in it did what they should do all the time, things would be so boring! Either way, review! **


	11. Say It's Okay When It Kills You Inside

**A/N: Why, hello! I have another chapter right here, and of course, it mostly contains Adam being an idiot and then obsessing about his own idiocy for about a thousand words! …Yeah, my style hasn't changed much. XD But I know you love it, so read! **

**11: Say It's Okay When It Kills You Inside**

When Adam was younger, he always had to walk with his little sister to school.

Their mother was "busy," so she couldn't do it. Adam became the one who had to close the door over her distant sobs, take his little sister by the hand and walk away. There had been a time when he hoped that she would somehow not hear the cries from behind the door, but by the time he'd reached his teens, he didn't really care anymore.

Adam hated walking his sister to school. It didn't make much of a difference to him, since they still went to the same school and all he had to do was take her with him when he went there, but he still hated it. Because he knew that his friends - if you could call them that - saw him, saw this halfhearted display of affection that it was to him to pretend that his little sister existed at all. And he knew what they thought about it, he heard the things they whispered to each other: _But… He always says that he doesn't care about her, and that he hates his mother… Why would he take her with him? Why does he stay with them at all?_

Adam was glad that they didn't ask any of that to his face. He wasn't sure what he'd answer if they did.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Lawrence knows he should be sad. Or worried, or whatever. But he finds that difficult. And to be honest, he doesn't try very hard. More than anything, he's angry, and he doesn't really want to be anything but that.

Even though being angry is probably one of the least convenient feelings you can have when you're invalid. It's hard to take it out in a practical way, so at this point, Lawrence has broken two remote controls because there was nothing good on TV, he answers every question from the nurses with an angry hiss and he's been close to losing his foot again because he tosses and turns uncontrollably when he sleeps to get away from the nightmares that all the drugs in the hospital will never be able to cure.

"Doctor Gordon," one of the nurses, who didn't like him much when they were working together either, exclaims one night when Lawrence gives her the evil eye when she asks him to give her his arm so she can check his pulse. "What the hell is your problem? You were an asshole when you were healthy, too, but I haven't seen you angry once in twenty years! Have you gotten an abstinence of that morphine they shot you up with, or something?"

Lawrence sighs, lets his head fall back. It's hard to explain exactly why you're angry when nothing seems to be anything but angering.

"I'm in love," he says and lifts his arm. "That's my problem."

The nurse smiles faintly and locates his pulse with her middle finger.

"And here I was prepared to give you some more painkillers just to shut you up," she says, her voice softer now. "But I'm afraid I don't have anything against that."

"Get a surgical consult, and maybe they can cut it out," Lawrence mutters, and the nurse chuckles.

Lawrence smiles, too, mostly for the sake of it.

He doesn't really see it as a joke. If he could cut Adam out of himself, he would.

He'd cut away that tumor that is love, rooted too deep for any surgeon to reach.

It shouldn't be that much of a problem. He hates Adam right now, hates him for making Lawrence love him and hates him for pretending that he breaks off with him because he wants what's best for Lawrence. Showing him love like that and then not letting him keep it should be unforgivable. But Lawrence can't be mad at him, no matter how much he hates him.

Every time he comes anywhere close to gather up enough negativity to be angry with Adam, and not just angry at the world, up pops the image of that morning Adam came back, the arm around his waist and the breath on his neck, the fragile words barely making it to Lawrence's ear before the circumstances shot them down like little birds: _I love you. Go to sleep. _

Then the warm, terrible thing gets out of the cage he's tried to keep it in, it chills him to the bone and makes every fiber in his body swell with heat at the same time, and Lawrence has to spend minutes clutching to his blanket and squeezing his eyes shut.

_Go away. Go away. _

Adam in his mind.

_Please. Go away. _

xxxxxxxxxxx

It doesn't really come like a big revelation. Adam doesn't wake up one day in the morning with a new outlook on life.

He knew it. He knew it all along.

If it's not love Lawrence feels for him, then it's a damn good impression. Because Adam's never felt the way he does for Lawrence, and neither has anyone felt for him the way he knows Lawrence feels about him. Not when his mother looked at him, that just made him feel like an orderly at a nursing center who played cards with the old people that no one wanted to visit, and sure as hell not when his father looked at him, if he ever did before he took off.

He's never felt that way before. Like he's needed at all, like he's actually wanted by someone, and not because they don't have anyone else, but because they want Adam, Adam for whom he is. Lawrence is the first person ever to make him feel that way, and Adam somehow manages to hold it against him.

Adam takes a drag on his cigarette and stares blankly in front of him as he realizes this. He should be ashamed of himself, but he isn't. At this point, he's done so many shitty things that he's not sure if he disagrees with Jigsaw, if he shouldn't have rotted away in that bathroom after all.

Neither is he sure how he's able to live with himself having done the things he's done just so he'll get to be alone. How he can look himself in the mirror knowing that he left his little sister with their mother when she was eight and he sixteen, leaving her alone with someone he avoided to his best effort through his whole childhood because he knew about her ability to break you down, physically and emotionally, until you were almost as screwed up as she was. He left his little sister there because he knew that he was all she had in the world, and that commitment scared him so much that he'd rather suppress her all together than actually step up and take her away from there.

And as hard as he's worked to erase any trace of guilt he's felt since that day without really succeeding, he does the same mistake again twelve years later. He leaves Lawrence, and with him, the first relationship he's ever had where the need and the clinginess is mutual, just because he's afraid of it. He's still so much of a chicken that as soon as things get a little scary, that scariness that's called "relying completely on someone," he bails out. Because that's who he is, who he's always been.

Adam should be ashamed. He should get up and do something. But he stays on the couch, smokes his tenth cigarette this hour, and stares at the TV that he hasn't turned off since he got home from the hospital a week ago.

**I've never intended to make Adam downright evil, but here, I don't know… He's a bit of a bastard, but maybe he just needs some Lawrence-lovin'. Like I need reviews! **


	12. The Nothing And The Everything

**A/N: Yay, I'm back! And with me, I have the ending of a fic! (No, there'll be another epilogue-like chapter, so everybody relax) This isn't a lot like the ending scenes I usually write, which of course makes it pretty scary for me, but hell, all those reviewers can't be wrong. ;)**

**12: The Nothing And The Everything**

One of the conversations Adam and Lawrence had, when they were both in the hospital, and their attraction was so simple, since it was just as obvious as the fact that they would never be able to do anything about it, was about the future. Most of those conversations were, in fact. What they were going to do when they got out of there, if they ever did. Because they were both pretty agreed on the fact that it felt like they'd stay in the hospital forever.

"Shouldn't you get a real job?" Lawrence said, a little uncertain, even though he should know that they've been through a bit too much to be concerned about not asking inappropriate questions. "That seems like a good first step."

"Mm," Adam nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. "Or… First of all, I actually want to find a girl."

Lawrence smiled, almost wearily.

"Your priorities are really top-notch, I can tell."

Adam laughed and felt his cheeks heating up.

"Oh, come on," he said and rubbed the side of his face. "If I have to go back to that fucking apartment with nothing to keep me company but the television and a fridge full of beer, I'll either be back in that bathroom before you know it or drink myself to death. I need someone to keep my ass in line."

Lawrence smiled warmly. It was so clear that Adam was really talking about him that they didn't even have to point it out, so they were quiet for a moment after that.

"Is it really all girls for you, Adam?" Lawrence then said.

Not even implying anything. At least Adam thought so.

"Yeah," Adam said with an awkward shrug. "I'm not gay or anything. Or… Well. I'm into girls. Just not… All the time."

Lawrence nodded. Then they were quiet again.

"It just has to be the right guy," Adam added quietly.

Damn it, he was so submissive. Didn't even try to keep his dignity. His very soul was sprawled across the bed between them, all that soft, icky stuff that Lawrence seems to have a natural gift for bringing out of him, and Lawrence knew it, he had to. And then there was another one of those lonely, desperate kisses, one moment that was separate from everything else, with Adam's hands on Lawrence's face like that was going to keep him there, and once they'd cleared that out, Adam climbed off of him, sat next to Lawrence, shoulder to shoulder, pretended it never happened, which it didn't.

It couldn't happen, so it didn't.

Adam only prays it can happen now.

He will never be able to find a girl to keep him straight. He will never find anyone, because he'll compare them all to Lawrence, and they'll never measure up.

He will never be able to love anyone that much again. It'd take the death of at least both of them for Adam to give those feelings up.

That's the last thought Adam manages to think before he bangs the door to Lawrence's hospital room open.

He didn't want to make some kind of grand entrance. That really worked out the way he hoped, because Lawrence barely seems to notice him coming in. Or he just pretends not to, and after watching him a few seconds, Adam has to guess for the latter.

He's never seen Lawrence angry. Panicking, yes. Annoyingly pitying, like that first time he asked if Adam thought they'd be able to stay away from each other, yes. But now, Lawrence stares into the opposite wall, hands behind his head, with a determination that makes Adam wonder if he's been sitting like that since Adam left him the last time. And he's definitely angry, his blue eyes have grown dark in a way Adam's never seen them before.

Adam knows he should feel guilty about that, but he doesn't. It's selfish, but all he thinks about is the fact that he wants Lawrence back. The fact that he's actually going to have to say he's sorry hasn't really crossed his mind yet.

"Lawrence," Adam says.

No reaction.

"Lawrence," Adam says again.

Nothing.

"Wow," Adam says and closes the door behind him. "That's real mature. And you're supposed to be the grownup here. If that's the way we're going to play about this, you should be glad that I, at least. am a respectable young man who's going to communicate us through this rough patch."

At this, Lawrence at least looks at him. His glance is just as hateful as it was when he looked at the wall, but at least it's on the right place. Adam takes a few steps against the bed. Still not sure what to say. Fumbling, trying, and probably failing miserably.

But he's going to try. At least he's going to try.

"I know that you love me," he finally gets out. "Okay? I know. Saying that you didn't was a crappy way of covering up for myself. I got stupid and scared shitless when I realized that I was already head over heels in with you."

Pause. Maybe Lawrence is softening up, Adam isn't sure. Lawrence isn't even very important right now, he's so nervous that all he feels is himself, his own palms getting slick.

"It's just that…" Adam begins, loses touch, begins again. _"Why? _That's what I didn't get. Fuck, that's what I _still _don't get. I mean… Why the hell would you want to be with me? I'm nothing, I'm… And you're everything. You have everything."

Adam quiets down. Lawrence looks at him now. He looks like he hangs on to every word Adam says, and like he can't believe he's saying them. Adam himself feels like every word is a last effort.

He's not sure how much more of himself he can show before his head explodes.

"Well, either way, I don't really care," Adam finishes off. "If you still love me, great, but even if you don't, I honestly don't give a fuck. I'm going to cling to your leg for the rest of your life either way, and if you have a problem with that, blame yourself. You made me this way. If this situation had occurred with someone else, I would've told them to go to hell, get drunk and then gotten even bitterer than I already am. But as it is now, I can't live without you. Okay? So this is the way it's going to be."

Lawrence doesn't answer straight away, even though any idiot can tell he's not angry anymore. He doesn't seem to be thinking it over, either. Just scanning Adam over from head to toe, looking over him, into him.

Still doesn't say anything. Adam almost gets annoyed.

"Okay, _what?_" he snaps. "What more do you want? If you want someone who gives big speeches, you're either going to have to find someone else or take me along with a copy of 'Lord of the Rings.' I've done what I could."

Lawrence nods. The first sign of life he's given through Adam's entire monologue. Then he sighs, slowly and theatrically, and finally lifts up his blanket.

"Come here," he says, moves to the side and nods to the empty space beside him. "Let's see if there's something good on TV."

Adam takes a second to let the overwhelming relief wash over him. Then he crawls down next to Lawrence. Lawrence turns on the TV, and Adam doesn't really watch it, he just uses the opportunity to get used to the feeling of a warm body next to him before he dares to put his head on Lawrence's shoulder.

He doesn't say anything. Lawrence doesn't say anything. There's absolutely nothing grandeur about their moment of reconciling.

But then again, they've never really been those kind of guys.

**I noticed that most of my reunion-moments between those two are pretty sappy, which of course has its charm, but I thought it'd be fun to try this out. Hope you liked it! :) **


	13. Epilogue: Why Fools Fall In Love

**A/N: YAY, another chapter! And nay, because… Well, it's the last one! (Cries) But hey, we had a hell of a run, right? Adam-angst and Lawrence-denying, you just can't get enough of that, can you? XD So, read it, hate it or love it! **

**Epilogue: Why Fools Fall In Love**

Lawrence is discharged after a few weeks. He still walks on crutches, and Adam's apartment building isn't very modified for disabled people, so it's not without nervousness that he turns the key and opens the door for him.

Even though he knows that it's not Lawrence having trouble getting up the stairs that he's worried about. What's beneath it is something completely different.

Lawrence looks around in the apartment. Adam waits for some kind of reaction, like an outraged cry and a leap towards the door, or at least some smart sarcasm, but Lawrence's face stays neutral, he spins around to his best effort on his one good foot, until he turns to Adam again.

"It's beautiful," he says plainly.

Adam grins embarrassedly.

"Now you're exaggerating a little," he says and fidgets with the doorknob.

Lawrence shakes his head, but then shrugs thoughtfully, and Adam cracks up.

"Okay, it's a shithole," Lawrence admits and looks around again. "But living here… With you. That's going to be beautiful."

Adam smiles inwardly, and in a way, there's something very sad about his smile. Maybe it's the fact that he still hasn't closed the door.

"'Beautiful' is a strong word," he says and rakes a hand through his hair. "It's not going to be beautiful. I'm going to be scared shitless, pissed off at myself for letting me fall and take it out on you… You're going to have to be the bigger, tolerant guy and wait out my tantrums, and I'm going to get pissed at that, too. It's not going to be beautiful."

Lawrence shrugs.

"I can handle that."

"Good."

"Yeah."

God, his hands are shaking.

Terrified. Adam is terrified. Probably more afraid than he's been in his entire life, and that's a lot.

But for the first time, he can feel like the fear is good. Since as the commitophobe that he is, he knows that the more fear, the bigger is the love.

Right now, he's so afraid that he probably won't be able to live without Lawrence. That the walls closing in in a claustrophobic way, the bubble of fear he's trapped in now, just might become his home.

Lawrence probably sees what he's thinking, as usual, and nods to the door next to him.

"Are you going to close the door?"

It doesn't hurt to look at him anymore. So after way too long, Adam closes the door and lets Lawrence into his life again.

**Yup, that's it. It's over. I can't believe it. (Dies) Nah, just kidding. You won't get rid of my ChainShipping-obsession for a long time, so shed no tears! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed this far, and I'll see you in another life, brother! (Lost-quote) **


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